Ad Infinitum Part Two: Past Progressive
by Kezhke
Summary: Sequel to Part 1. As Harry Kim, B’Elanna Torres, and Tom Paris navigate the years following “Endgame,” a strange turn of events takes their lives in unexpected directions.
1. Chapter 1

**Ad Infinitum**

**Part Two: Past Progressive**

_Disclaimer: Star Trek and its characters are the property of Viacom/Paramount/CBS, and I am just borrowing them for fun, not profit._

_Synopsis: Set during various periods of time post-"Endgame." Canon-consistent (though, as it deals with time travel, may not seem so – keep reading, and it'll make sense). Rated PG-13 for some frank discussions of sexuality._

_In Part One, Miral Paris and Andrew Kim entered Starfleet Academy and began dating, to the chagrin of their parents. After three years together, Miral and Andrew headed off for summer internships at different ends of the quadrant and found themselves breaking up. The beginning of their last year at the Academy brought about a reconciliation. Faced with the end of the tenure as cadets and the possibility that their first duty assignments would once again scatter them around the galaxy, they became engaged. Miral's parents, now adjusted to the idea of the couple, welcomed friends and family to their San Francisco home to celebrate, but the festivities were interrupted when Q2 appeared, announcing, to everyone's confusion, that he was the reason Andrew existed._

_Part Two begins in the past, exploring what happened between "Endgame" and Part One as Harry Kim tries to understand how exactly he acquired a son._

_Pairings: P/T, K/f, J/C, others._

_Notes: Voyager Relaunch, Pathways, and Mosaic are not canon. (For that matter, I don't consider "The Fight" canon, but that's neither here nor there.)_

_Language Note: Klingon expressions were translated using several different sources. I have not provided the English translations here, as the meaning should be more or less evident from context._

* * *

**Chapter 1: Earth, San Francisco, Residence of Admiral Owen Paris, 2382**

"Are you sure about this, Har?" Tom asked. "They're only cute for the first five hours or so, and then they become impossible."

Harry grinned. "You don't mean that. Besides, I spent all night with Naomi Wildman when she was a baby. And with Miral when we were in quarantine on Mariana Two."

"And did you get any sleep?"

"No." Harry grinned again, looking at Tom. "Come on, Libby and I really want to do this. We want to practice for when we have one of our own. Don't you trust us?"

"Of course I do. Help me pack up the ten kilos of supplies you're going to need."

When at last they had the necessary bags packed, Tom and Harry went into the living room to rejoin B'Elanna, Libby, and the girls. Miral was looking at a padd on the floor. B'Elanna, on the couch, was sipping a glass of wine while she watched Libby holding a sleeping L'Naan against her chest. Tom wondered how B'Elanna could handle someone else taking charge of their daughters with such ease when he was feeling so apprehensive. He tried to focus on the fact that Harry was a trustworthy friend and reminded himself of the advantages of having a child-free night with his wife.

"Libs, you ready?" Harry asked.

She nodded. "So what are you two going to do tonight?" Tom and B'Elanna exchanged a slight glance, and B'Elanna took a slow sip of wine as her lips curved into a smile. "Never mind."

Harry knelt down next to Miral. "Hey, munchkin, you ready to go?" Like Tom, Harry had developed a habit of calling her by her nickname.

She looked up at her surrogate uncle. "Where?"

"You're going to spend the weekend at our house. Sound like fun?"

Miral frowned slightly, processing. Clearly she wasn't sure if it would in fact be fun or not.

"Miral," Libby said, hoping to tip the scales in their favor, "I'll teach you how to make those cookies you like."

"Easy on the sugar if you want her to go to sleep tonight," B'Elanna warned.

"And tomorrow we can go to Libby's museum," Harry added.

"Can we go to your work?" Miral asked eagerly.

Without looking behind him at Tom, Harry knew he was bristling. The first time Tom had taken Miral in a shuttle, she said she wanted to be a pilot, but after her first visit to Harry's house she had become completely absorbed in emulating him and Libby. It disappointed Tom, Harry knew, though it was silly – she was only four, after all. There was still plenty of time for her to decide her father was her hero.

"Sure," Harry pledged. "We can do anything you want. We're going to have fun all weekend."

* * *

"This is nice," B'Elanna commented as she and Tom snuggled on the sofa in the tranquility of the now-empty house.

"Pretty good luck my parents were gone this week, huh? It wouldn't have been the same otherwise."

"Pretty good luck that Harry and Libby wanted to baby-sit." She took one of Tom's hands in her own and caressed his long fingers.

"They have no idea what they're in for."

"No idea," she agreed. "But they can call us if they run into any trouble, and in the meantime you and I get some peace." She let go of his hand, and he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her to his chest. "Tell me about that program you and Powell have been running."

Tom smiled. She didn't care about it, he knew, but it was nice to have a wife who not only let him spend hours on the holodeck indulging his fantasies with her assistant engineer but who also patiently listened while he recalled the details for her. He described the scenario involving him and Powell as masked superheroes for a minute until he could feel her start to fidget out of boredom. "You never finished telling me about the showdown with Ensign Briggs," he murmured as he leaned down to kiss her neck just below her ear.

B'Elanna craned her neck back to look at him. "You remember that?" He nodded. "Impressive. That was three weeks ago."

"I listen when you speak."

"I know you do. You know what? I'm not really angry about it anymore, but I think I'm going to have her transferred to beta shift anyway. She causes too much trouble on duty." She shrugged. "Let's not talk about work."

"Okay, what do you want to talk about?"

B'Elanna twisted in his arms and kissed him deeply. It wasn't difficult for Tom to understand that she didn't really want to talk at all.

* * *

"When was the last time we had a whole night alone together?" Tom asked.

B'Elanna lifted her head slightly from his chest to look up at him. "I think it was before L'Naan was born."

"Really? That long?" Tom lazily traced up and down her spine with a finger. "We should get some more friends then, so we can have more free baby-sitting. I almost forgot how much I like being alone with you."

"Is that a compliment or an insult?"

"Definitely a compliment," Tom said wisely, and she settled back down on his chest. "Before L'Naan was born? Oh, yes, the night we took Chakotay to that American Indian opera."

"I forgot about that," B'Elanna admitted. "But that was actually quite a fun night, if memory serves. And the next morning was pretty fun, too."

Tom gave a little laugh and wrapped his arms more tightly around her. "Were you thinking about the time we celebrated our anniversary on the beach?" He felt B'Elanna nod. "That was when we decided to have another baby, wasn't it?" he asked, his voice soft. She nodded again. He took a moment to consider what he was about to say and decided to chance it. "B'Elanna, did you ever think about having a third?"

B'Elanna repositioned herself, balancing on her elbow so she could look at him. "I thought we agreed that two was the perfect number. One of us for each of them, right?"

"I know," Tom said, looking away from her eyes.

B'Elanna's free hand gently touched his cheek. "We have two perfect, amazing daughters, Tom. There's no reason to feel sad that we aren't going to have any more."

Tom nodded. Somewhere, deep in the back of his mind, he registered how foolish he must seem, to be sad about children who never existed in the first place, to ask her to change plans they had carefully constructed together, to betray Miral and L'Naan, as if they weren't enough for him. What more could he want?

_**  
USS Enterprise, Private Quarters of Torres-Paris Family, 2381**_

"_I'm home!" Tom called as was habit. So habitual, in fact, that he often found himself calling to empty quarters when his shift ended before hers. Tonight, however, he was in luck: both wife and daughter were waiting for him. Miral was sitting on the sofa, her feet dangling in the air. B'Elanna was sifting through a stack of padds while standing at the dining table. He grinned when he saw them. His family. Waiting for him. The people he belonged with. It was an incredibly satisfying feeling._

_He put his arms around B'Elanna from behind. His hands clasped together well above her waistline, and he planted a kiss on as much of her cheek as he could reach. As she turned in his arms, her belly knocked him a step backward. He kissed her more fully, and then he placed two hands on the mound that was soon to be the newest member of his family. _

"_Hi," she said softly with a hint of a smile._

"_Hi," he said, not fully recognizing the softness in his own voice. It had, he knew, something to do with babies. "How is she today?"_

_B'Elanna's brown eyes shined. "She was pretty excited about the isolinear chip backup, but the staff reports really bored her."_

"_Her or you?" Tom kissed her quickly again, and she withdrew her arms from around his neck. He crossed the room to the sofa. "Hi, munchkin," he said softly to Miral as he knelt down in front of her._

_It was as if she'd just noticed his presence, and in that instant her whole universe changed. "Daddy!" she cried, sliding off the sofa. She dove into his open arms. _

_Tom loved it. No, loved wasn't a strong enough word. Before he had this life, he didn't understand how something a meter tall could completely reshape his values, his measure of success and happiness, the feeling of importance he had in the world. And here it was. All he had to do was simply come home, and her face lit up. He was "dad." It was an identity he liked. Savored. Relished. Felt completely unworthy of but eager to hang on to._

_He hugged his daughter against him and then kissed her cheek while running a hand through her bobbed hair. "Hey, munchkin, tell me about your day."_

_Like her mother, who could talk for hours about her engines and really enjoyed it when Tom actually listened to her doing so, Miral Paris liked having his attention. She stood in front of her father and told him what she had been up to at school all day. Her face was animated, her voice rose and fell with inflection, and she gestured wildly as she recounted incidents both significant and trivial out of chronological order, divulging their importance to her three-year-old mind. She remained in firm eye contact with something over Tom's left shoulder the entire time she was talking. Tom was riveted._

"_That sounds pretty exciting," he agreed when she finished. He glanced over at B'Elanna, who was scrolling through a padd with one hand while the other hand rubbed her lower back pain. He looked back at Miral, took her tiny hands in his own, and stood up. "How about making dinner with me?"_

"_Yeah," she whispered with a nod._

"_Hey, B'Elanna, what should we eat for dinner?"_

"_It's up to you two."_

"_Miral? What should we have for dinner?"_

"_Pizza!"_

"_We had pizza two days ago. Aren't you tired of it?" She shook her head. "Good, neither am I."_

"_Tom?" B'Elanna called. "She's kicking."_

_Tom quickly crossed the room to place his hands back on B'Elanna's belly. He felt a delicate, time-delayed push back from the inside. He and B'Elanna looked at each other._

"_Daddy! The pizza!" Miral called insistently._

_Even though they'd done it three years before, Tom was still in awe of the feat of science he and B'Elanna were accomplishing. He was moved to kiss her. He placed one hand under her jaw, his thumb grazing her cheek as their lips pressed together gently._

"_Daddy!" Miral demanded._

"_Miral," B'Elanna warned. _

_On occasion, and especially since the news that a third female was entering the tribe, B'Elanna and Miral didn't share the mutual man in their life well. Tom assumed it was a passing phase and tried his best to make Miral feel as important as possible._

"_Okay, munchkin," he relented, grabbing her sides and throwing her up in the air. "Pizza time." She shrieked with delight as he tossed her. Then he held her mid-air over the replicator, and she ordered their dinner. Tom's special recipe for pepperoni pizza materialized with a serving spatula. He set Miral back on the floor and carried dinner to the table._

"_No padds at the table," Miral reminded her mother as she climbed into a chair._

_It was an echo of a rule they'd established some time ago. B'Elanna complied, moving her stack of padds on the desk, and then sat down for dinner with her family._

"You're just so gorgeous pregnant," he told her.

"Tom, I am not," she said in complete disbelief. "Both times I looked swollen and fat, and I couldn't walk very well, and –"

"And you were glowing, and your breasts were plump and round, and you were emitting all kinds of hormones, and you were really very sexy," he finished in a breathy whisper, his lips grazing her cheek.

B'Elanna shifted on top of him so that he was now completely submissive under her body. "And you're telling me you want to consider having another baby because my body looks good when I'm pregnant?"

He knew she was kidding, but it frustrated him that he wasn't able to tell her what he really meant. How the feeling of having a family felt to him. How he'd worried that having a second child would make Miral feel less important – even if he didn't want her to be – and instead it had just made his love for her grow. Tom sighed. He wasn't going to be able to get it all out in words. Not tonight.

And, anyway, it wasn't how he wanted to spend their one free night together. They were supposed to be making mad, passionate love. As B'Elanna shifted on top of him again, Tom was reminded of this objective and began to look forward to another opportunity to do so.

* * *

**Kim Family Residence**

Libby looked down at the sleeping form of Miral Paris with a little sigh. Married about a year, she and Harry had decided they were ready for a family. As much as she adored taking care of the little Parises, it only made her more eager to have a child of her own, but the process was proving difficult for them.

Harry must have sensed what she was thinking because he came up behind her and put an arm around her waist. He leaned his chin on her shoulder. "Some day, Libs," he promised in a whisper. "Just be patient."

Libby turned to leave the bedroom, and Harry followed. Back out in their living room, she spun around to look at him, suddenly serious. "I think it's time we started talking seriously about artificial methods."

She saw Harry's body visibly stiffen. "We've only been trying for a few months," he said. "I don't want to have to artificially conceive a child. If we're supposed to have one, it'll happen."

"That is such an archaic idea," she ridiculed. "You're willing to use technology to replicate your meals, to clean your body, to let you travel faster than the speed of light. You have no problem with hyposprays for hormone suppression when you don't want to have children. Why is this any different?"

"Libby…"

"No, Harry, give me an answer. If we were two different species, you'd be perfectly willing to seek medical assistance. But because we're two humans who have some kind of problem conceiving together, your own ego won't let you do anything about it? For god's sake, Tom and B'Elanna aren't even supposed to be able to have children together, and they have two!"

"And both of them were conceived _naturally_," Harry said through clenched teeth.

"I don't even think you want to have children! I think you're just making excuses."

"I'm not making excuses, Libby," he said, trying to sound calm. "I'm saying that there are reasons things happen. It hasn't been very long. We need to let this play out on its own."

"You cannot make that decision unilaterally!"

"And neither can you!" he challenged back.

"Give me one good reason why artificial conception is out of the question," she demanded. "One. And don't give me some damn excuse about social order or the laws of nature or fate. Give me one real, solid reason, and I'll never bring it up again. I dare you."

As he watched her work herself into a near frenzy, Harry wondered if he'd ever seen her so upset before. It was definitely the top, and it was all directed at him. He realized that the issue of not having a child was going to be entirely his fault for the rest of their lives if he wasn't able to give her a satisfactory answer.

The truth was that he didn't have one. He simply thought it was superfluous to use medical assistance for something that was supposed to be as natural as conception. That answer, though, would never pass muster in Libby's eyes. If he wanted a child as much as she did – and he certainly thought he did – then he had to accept that _he_ was the primary obstacle at this point. If the look on her face was any indicator, she would never forgive him for it, and Harry knew he could never accept that.

So he relented. "I don't have one, Libby," he said quietly. "You're right."

She had prepared herself so thoroughly for a fight that she didn't quite know what to do or say. It took her a moment to recover. "What?"

"You're right. We should go to the doctor together."

Libby smiled in surprise and relief and opened her mouth to say something, but a piercing cry from L'Naan interrupted her. She turned her head toward the door with a laugh. "Impeccable timing, Miss Paris."

A minute later, Libby returned to the sofa with L'Naan on her shoulder. She hummed softly and gently rubbed L'Naan's back as the child sobbed against her. Harry watched them, admiring Libby's technique and realizing how lovely she looked with her face pressed against a baby's. She caught him looking and smiled at him.

"What are you thinking about, Harry Kim?" she asked.

"Do you remember the first time you met Miral?"

Libby nodded with a smile. "Of course I do. I was surprised. I had always pegged you as a one-woman man."

"You were jealous, admit it."

"Of course," she admitted freely as L'Naan continued to wail. "I had just gotten you back after _seven years_, and you expected me to share you?"

_  
**San Francisco, Janeway Residence, 2379**_

_Miral Paris's first birthday coincided with the anniversary of Voyager's return to the Alpha Quadrant, and Admiral Owen Paris saw no better reason to use his influence to arrange a reunion. The official Starfleet parts of the two-day affair included medical exams and file updates to see how the Federation's long-lost citizens were faring, press interviews (which B'Elanna had vehemently protested to her in-laws), several dull presentations on how Starfleet was integrating DQ technology and research into its ships and science (presentations that several of the crew who had left Starfleet were planning to skip in favor of a poker game), and a dress uniform reception with the brass (which now included their former fearless leader). The unofficial parts of the reunion, however, were the most anticipated: a party at Janeway's, Miral's birthday party, and a hastily organized Velocity tournament that was Harry's idea._

_When Tom and B'Elanna arrived at Admiral Janeway's apartment with Miral in tow, they stepped into the spacious living room a little tentatively. In a flash, Janeway, with champagne glasses for each of them, was calling their names and crossing the room to them. Tom took his glass and then gave the admiral a strong hug. She patted his back warmly. Then she turned her attention to B'Elanna and Miral. Janeway's small hand gently caressed the side of Miral's face, and Miral, only slightly alert, blinked at her. Janeway put an arm around B'Elanna maternally and, still holding B'Elanna's champagne, led her into the living room._

_Harry was next to accost them. Still Ensign Eager at heart, though now a Lieutenant junior grade by rank, he had been among the first to arrive – beaten only by Tuvok and Vorik (Vulcans having a naturally acute sense of punctuality). He had been enjoying catching up with the early guests and introducing his girlfriend Libby to his Voyager family, but what he really wanted was to see his other true love._

"_Where's my niece?" he called, setting his drink down on the nearest table and beelining toward them. He nearly ripped Miral out of B'Elanna's arms. Harry beamed as he held her to his chest and gently bounced her up and down. Miral came fully awake and looked up into Harry's eyes._

"_Careful," Tom warned. "She's teething, and she can get pretty fierce pretty fast."_

_Harry dismissed him and moved back into the folds of the party to show off his prize._

"_They seem to like each other," Janeway noted as she handed B'Elanna the champagne she'd been holding._

"_They're the loves of each other's lives," B'Elanna corrected before taking a long sip._

"_Admiral, you should see it. The minute Harry calls us, she hears his voice and tries to stand up in her crib," Tom said with pride. _

"_One year old tomorrow," Janeway remarked. She put an arm around each of them. "Any thoughts about having another?"__  
_

_B'Elanna took another drink of champagne to avoid answering, but her smile was visible around the rim of the glass._

"So there I was, standing with Sue Nicoletti, talking about Mozart, and you came bounding across the room with this tiny little Klingon thing in your arms," Libby said. "And you had a smile on your face that you've never had for me."

Harry stretched out his arms for L'Naan, and Libby passed her over. L'Naan gave one final heaving sob before falling silent against Harry's chest. "Don't tell me you're jealous of a baby?"

Libby watched him, admiring his confidence with the baby. It was no secret between them that they liked Miral and L'Naan better than their biological nieces and nephews. Both were quite close to their families, but Harry's special connection with his friends from Voyager was something beyond familial, and as a result his two adoptive nieces were dear to him.

Libby wasn't really intimate with either Tom or B'Elanna, though she appreciated how graciously she had been welcomed into their circle. She thought Tom was funny, like a big brother who was always teasing her and Harry, and it amused her to imagine the Harry she'd known as a cadet falling under a spell of hero-worship for him. She'd also watched Tom as a parent, and she'd noticed that for all his tough exterior and sordid past, when it came to Miral and L'Naan, he was a big teddy bear.

Libby's relationship with B'Elanna was a little stickier. B'Elanna wasn't the kind of person who warmed to new people instantly, but Libby knew Harry loved her dearly and that they had been through a lot together. Libby admired her strength and courage, her principles, her ability to handle Tom's sometimes childish nature, and her rather impressive career. But she didn't really have much in common with her. She got the distinct impression that B'Elanna Torres was better attuned to male friends, and that Libby, a girl's girl by all the old gender stereotypes, wasn't of much interest to her. Still, they always had plenty to talk about, as long as they discussed Miral and L'Naan, and Libby hoped that she would one day be the kind of mother B'Elanna was, fiercely protective yet willing to let her children encounter the world on their own terms.

As she watched Harry holding L'Naan, Libby imagined what kind of father he would be.


	2. Chapter 2

_Synopsis: Set during various periods of time post-"Endgame." Canon-consistent (though, as it deals with time travel, may not seem so – keep reading, and it'll make sense). __In Part One, Miral Paris and Andrew Kim (Harry's son) entered Starfleet Academy and began dating, to the chagrin of their parents. After three years together, Miral and Andrew headed off for summer internships at different ends of the quadrant and found themselves breaking up. The beginning of their last year at the Academy brought about a reconciliation. Faced with the end of their tenure as cadets and the possibility that their first duty assignments would once again scatter them around the galaxy, they became engaged. Tom and B'Elanna welcomed friends and family to their San Francisco home to celebrate Miral and Andrew's graduation and engagment, but the festivities were interrupted when Q2 appeared, announcing, to everyone's confusion, that he was the reason Andrew existed. __Part Two begins in the past, exploring what happened between "Endgame" and Part One._

* * *

**Chapter 2: Tau Ceti III, Jungle, 2383**

"It's too hot here," Tom complained, wiping the beads of sweat from his forehead. "Next year B'Elanna does not get a vote in where we go."

"Next year?" Libby challenged. "We just got here, and you're already planning a sequel?"

"Yeah, somewhere B'Elanna doesn't pick."

"Some democracy then," B'Elanna said, pulling off a few layers of clothing until she was down to pants and a tank top.

_All in all_, Tom thought as he watched, _maybe there is an advantage to being in the tropics_.

"There are three of us," Libby pointed out, hauling a duffel bag over to her, "and only one of you, and somehow you won the vote. I still don't quite understand how that happened." She yanked the tent out of its protective case and looked at B'Elanna with a grin. "But then again, I'm not a Starfleet officer. I don't understand complex paradoxes."

"Ha ha," B'Elanna said, helping Libby to set up one of the tents that would be home for the next three days. "This is payback for the time you two convinced me that the Yukon has a temperate climate."

"It does," Harry insisted.

"Not in January."

Harry laughed. "Well, we're going to be here for three days, so let's all agree to stop complaining about the heat right now. Otherwise, we won't have any fun."

"Deal," Tom agreed. He ran his forearm across his damp forehead again and wondered if the medkit he'd packed had anything to help him feel cooler. He looked around the campsite for his daughters and found them a few meters away. Miral was sitting on a log with L'Naan on her lap, her arms wrapped a little too tightly around L'Naan's middle. _Well, she's squeezing her sister to death, but at least they're not running off. _"Hey, munchkin," he called, "do you want to go for a swim?"

Miral's eyes lit up, and Tom could too easily predict the chain of events that would next happen. A five-year-old tempted with the promise of something fun was all too likely to discard whatever she was holding, even if it was her two-year-old sister. Before Miral could drop L'Naan, though, Tom bounded over to them and deftly scooped the smaller child into his arms.

"Don't bring her," Miral told him. "She doesn't know how to swim."

Tom tossed L'Naan up in the air and caught her, smiling as she laughed. "Neither do you, munchkin, but I'll teach you. Then you can teach L'Naan."

Miral stamped a foot. "Daddy! Don't bring her. I don't want her to come."

A few meters away, Harry and Libby heard the exchange and looked at each nervously. Miral's explosions were nothing new to them, but as yet they'd only encountered them through subspace transmissions. The real thing, in front of them, on their first joint family vacation, was something else all together.

B'Elanna, however, continued assembling their tent and unpacking, trusting in Tom's ability to manage the situation.

"Miral," he said, using her name instead of the nickname he so often used when he spoke to her. He looked down at her sternly.

It had little effect. Miral stamped her foot again and crossed her arms over her chest. A cloud formed over her face as she growled, "I don't like her! Why does she always have to come with us?"

"Miral Paris, stop that at once," he said sharply. More staring. Two tiny Klingon eyes staring back, daring him to do something. He'd be damned if he'd accept a challenge from a toddler. He shifted L'Naan into his left arm, and with his right he scooped up Miral, and then he carried them both swiftly toward the river. Miral began shrieking, at first in protest and then, after a moment, in delight.

A moment later Harry, Libby, and B'Elanna heard a loud splash, followed by the sounds of L'Naan and Miral laughing. Crisis averted.

* * *

Harry climbed forward on his hands and knees into his tent. _Not bad, if archaic,_ he thought of Tom's choice of dwellings. _A little like sleeping in a Jeffries tube._ He crawled all the way across the tent to where his wife was lying on her back, naked, blankets pushed down by her feet.

"Uh, Libby…?"

"It's so hot," she complained. "I can't sleep."

Harry leaned down to kiss her and was met with a forceful arm stopping him before he came close.

"Don't even think about it. It's too hot."

"I think Tom has a hypospray that will make you feel better."

"I'm not sick," she said irritably. "I'm just on the world's most uncomfortable camping trip."

"It's not so bad."

Libby sat up and looked him, her arms draping across her bent knees. "Harry, it's boiling hot and humid, Miral is being a complete pain, and our only promise of fun is…what? Swimming in a tepid river that is probably teeming with parasites?"

Harry shook his head and lay down. "Great attitude, Libby."

She sighed and lay down again. "I'm sorry. I know you were looking forward to this vacation, but –"

"But nothing," he said, staring at the ceiling of the tent. "I get one vacation a year, and you want to spend it complaining." A thought occurred to him. "You know, if we have our own children, there's a good chance they'll go through their own phases of being pains in the butt, so you might want to give Miral a little slack."

"I will never have children who behave like that."

The coldness of Libby's voice surprised Harry, and he hoped she was speaking quietly enough that Tom and B'Elanna couldn't overhear. Libby had always said she liked Miral and L'Naan as much as he did; he didn't want to think she was merely tolerating them for his sake. "Miral's a good kid. She's just –"

"No, Harry, I will never have children who behave like that because I will never have children."

It hit Harry like a phaser blast at point-blank range. They had been trying to conceive for almost two years, and it was wearing their patience thin. And this is what it had come to. Libby was now convinced it just wasn't going to happen.

Harry rolled to his side and took her hands. "Honey, we will."

She shook her head. Her voice was much softer as she said, "Harry, I think it's time we started to think seriously about why we're doing this. About what our lives would be like if we never have children."

"But you're the one who convinced me we should see doctors, try alternative methods."

"I know, but it's been a long, hard year. What would happen if we stopped trying?"

Harry let out a breath. His voice barely audible, he told her, "I would be disappointed."

"So would I, but honey…"

They stayed up all night talking, for the first time in a long time, about their true feelings about parenthood, about their expectations for their careers, and about how what they had mapped out for their life together had changed so dramatically over the past few years. Their conversation waned at dawn, just as a huge rainstorm rolled in, bringing cool breezes across their campsite.

* * *

B'Elanna smoothed her hair as she emerged from the tent. It had been empty when she awoke, and the sun was already shining brightly overhead, so she could only assume that she had slept in and the rest of her family was already up.

She rolled a kink out of her neck as she walked toward the fire, where Libby was stirring a pot in her arms. She looked up at B'Elanna with a smile as she approached.

"Good morning," she said in a cheerful tone.

"Good morning," B'Elanna said back, her voice not nearly matching Libby's. She looked down at the tan-colored goo Libby was stirring. "Are you making breakfast?"

Libby nodded. "I thought the girls would be hungry. They've been up for an hour or so already, and Tom and Harry are working up their appetite over there." She nodded her head in the direction of a field beyond their campsite.

B'Elanna turned to look and saw the four chasing each other in the distance. "What time is it?"

"10:30."

"Oh." B'Elanna looked down at the pot. "What are you making?"

"Banana pancakes. I know they're your favorite, and I thought that after yesterday, we could all use a little cheering up."

B'Elanna peered into the pot and tried to make sense of this information. She looked up at Libby, whose chipper countenance seemed genuine enough. "Thank you," she said finally. "That's very thoughtful of you."

Libby nodded and moved toward the fire, ready to spread the batter and start cooking.

B'Elanna rubbed her arms a little. "It's a lot cooler today, isn't it?"

"Yes, there was a big rainstorm last night. Didn't you hear it?"

"I think I'm going to get a jacket." B'Elanna walked back to the tent and searched through the piles of clothing strewn about for something warm to wear. She found a lightweight jacket of Tom's and threw it on, pushing the sleeves up past her wrists as best as possible. She stepped back out and looked in the direction of the field.

She couldn't exactly tell what Harry and Tom were doing with Miral and L'Naan, but it was clear they were having fun. Though who was having more fun – the kids or the adults – was difficult to tell. Harry had some kind of yellow fabric in his hands, and he was running in circles, waving it, while Miral chased him. Tom was egging her on, B'Elanna could tell, from the silhouette of his hands up to his mouth, as if calling out loudly. She smiled as she watched them, and then ducked back inside the tent.

She emerged again a moment later with the holoimager and headed in the direction of the field. When she got close enough to hear them, she heard Tom patiently explaining to L'Naan that she was not supposed to ask him to carry her because he was the enemy.

"You're supposed to chase Daddy, squirt," he said, bending down to look at her. Her only response was to extend her arms up toward him. Tom looked up at Harry and shrugged.

"Daddy, race Harry," Miral suggested.

"How about it, Har? Race you to that tree?"

Harry nodded, already slightly out of breath. "Only if they race after us."

"Try to catch us!" Tom called to Miral and L'Naan as he and Harry took off at warp speed across the field.

Miral shrieked, and then she and L'Naan followed as fast as their little legs would take them. Tom and Harry quickly and easily reached the tree and circled behind it, and a moment later they were chasing Miral and L'Naan back in the direction they had come from. They caught the girls and tackled them – gently, B'Elanna hoped – to the ground. As the four of them lay in the grass, rolling around, laughing and panting for breath, B'Elanna snapped a picture.

Tom sat up. "Good morning," he called to her, shielding his eyes from the sun so he could look at her. "Is that my jacket?"

"It's cold today." B'Elanna sat down in the grass near them, and L'Naan toddled over and plopped into her lap. "Good morning," she said as she kissed her and stroked her hair. She looked at the other three. "Libby's making banana pancakes. Is anybody hungry yet?"

"Starving," Harry said. "Miral?"

"I'm so hungry I could eat five," she declared.

"Well, I'm so hungry I could eat six," he told her, leaning toward her.

"I'm so hungry I could eat seven." She leaned her face toward him, mimicking and challenging him.

Harry poked her between the ribs, and she shrieked. "I'm so hungry I could eat eight."

She tried to poke him back, but he dodged. "I'm so hungry I could eat ten."

"I'm so hungry I could – hey, you skipped nine," Harry told her.

"That's how hungry I am!" Miral exclaimed, jumping to her feet. "Race you!" She took off toward Libby and breakfast.

* * *

"You didn't happen to bring a tricorder or a communicator or a compass, did you?" Libby asked as she pushed several branches out of her way.

"No," B'Elanna said shortly. "I didn't think this was an away mission. I thought we were going for a walk." She hit a spider web and paused in her motion forward to flail her arms until the sticky web had been cast out of the way. A strand caught on her lips, and she spat. "How was I supposed to know you'd get us lost?"

"_I_ didn't get us lost," Libby said. _I wasn't the one who said she knew where she was going._

"Neither did _I_," B'Elanna snapped back. She felt a growing sense of frustration, and though she was presently bushwhacking through a dense jungle, she tried desperately to remember some of her Vulcan meditation techniques. The last thing she needed was to get into a fight with Harry's wife in the middle of nowhere.

They came to a slight clearing, and both stopped involuntarily. B'Elanna surveyed their surroundings. She'd always thought she had a good sense of direction, a fair ability to manage in a survival situation. Starfleet had trained her for it. She'd been on enough away missions that involved similar circumstances. But somehow something as innocuous as a camping trip going awry had thrown her. She thought they were walking in circles but couldn't tell. She looked up, hoping the sun could guide them, but the canopy of the trees above them was too thick. She put her hands on her hips.

"Now what?" Libby asked impatiently. She didn't mean to be curt, but what had started as a simple stroll before dinner had suddenly turned into an hour trek through the jungle. B'Elanna had only invited her along, Libby knew, to be polite, and they had walked in a companionable silence until both realized they were lost. The fact of the matter, to Libby's mind, was that the hike was B'Elanna's idea, and B'Elanna was the one with Starfleet training. It seemed reasonable to expect that B'Elanna would take charge of the situation.

"I don't know. If we had com badges, I'd call Tom. If I had a tricorder, I could scan for the campsite. I could probably even rig a transporter, with the right power source, but…" She looked around. "I'm not sure how to get us out of here when all we have are trees and bugs."

Libby sat down on a log but jumped up a mere second later as a large bug crawled toward her. "We should be careful. Some of these bugs are poisonous." She felt slightly satisfied to show off some of her own expertise.

B'Elanna glanced down at the offending party and then plucked it up between two fingers. She dangled it near her face. "Some people eat these," she reported. "They're high in protein. Won't hurt you." She flung the bug in Libby's direction.

Libby jumped out of the way, glaring at B'Elanna. She took a deep breath. "All right, we're just not thinking clearly. We need to look for signs." She surveyed the area. "All right," she said again, pointing. "Those trees are all wet. Could be that there's a water source nearby."

"Libby, you told me it rained last night."

"Oh, right."

"Aren't you a biologist?" B'Elanna asked, not even attempting to mask her annoyance.

"Marine," Libby said by way of explanation. The truth was, she should have been more than a bumbling idiot in their present circumstance, but it was taking every ounce of will and mental faculty she had to maintain her usual good manners. _Okay, focus,_ she told herself. _The last thing I need is for Harry to say I'm ruining his vacation again. Ignore her, and think about all the things you know. _She inspected their surroundings again, and another idea hit her. "B'Elanna, this way." She began walking.

"Are you sure? How do you know?" B'Elanna asked. She sounded dubious, but Libby noticed that she followed closely nonetheless.

"The campsite isn't far from the river, and we're walking toward the river."

"How do you know?" B'Elanna repeated with exasperation.

Libby pointed to some plants growing on the thickly covered floor on the jungle. "They need too much water to survive on just rain. They grow along rivers and lakes. If you look back the way we came, you won't see any of them. If you look ahead, there are more of them. It's safe to assume we're walking toward the river."

"Fair enough," B'Elanna said. "Lead the way."

They only made it a few meters before B'Elanna stepped incorrectly onto a twig that she thought would snap under her feet and actually fell into a small sinkhole. She cried out. Libby stopped and turned around, spotting B'Elanna trying to pull her foot out of the hole in the ground.

"It's caught on some kind of root," B'Elanna reported. She was wincing, and it was clear to Libby that she was in pain.

Libby bent down to extract B'Elanna's foot from the tangle of plants and roots that were holding it. It was twisted at an unnatural angle. She watched as B'Elanna tentatively put some weight on it, only to pull back in pain. "Okay, you've got a break or a sprain," Libby said. "Either way, it looks like we're walking together." She put an arm around B'Elanna and felt her lean on her frame as they slowly continued.

A half an hour later, it was Libby's footing that slipped, and they both went tumbling to the ground. Libby sprang to her feet, wildly flicking off the myriad of ants and other creatures that had immediately begun to crawl across her skin. Then she realized B'Elanna was on her back with her knees drawn up to her chest.

"Are you okay?" Libby asked with great concern.

B'Elanna let out a slight groan. "I think I just did something to my other leg," she admitted. "Damn it."

"I'm so sorry! It was my fault," Libby gushed. "I should have been paying more attention."

"Don't sweat it," B'Elanna said sincerely. "The footing here is difficult. Just help me up, will you?"

As B'Elanna tentatively rose to her feet, it was clear to both of them that she wasn't really in a condition to walk any farther.

"I can't – I can't put weight on it," she said through gritted teeth. She leaned heavily against Libby as she tried to figure out which foot could support more weight with less pain. Neither could do much. After a moment of trying, her knees gave out and she slumped back to the ground. "Damn it!" She rolled on the ground, clutching her legs. "I once finished an entire hoverball tournament with a broken ankle," she informed Libby. "I fought the Borg while I was in labor. I am _not_ going to get stuck in the jungle because we tripped on a plant!"

Libby knelt down and winced in sympathy, though it was clear B'Elanna's pride was in greater distress than her body. "Do you want me to go get Tom?" she asked. "I really don't want to leave you here. It's getting dark, and I don't think it's a good idea for you to be left alone. But maybe he can help me carry you back."

"It's fine," B'Elanna spat. "I can walk." She once again raised herself up with a loud cry and took precisely two steps before she collapsed against Libby.

Without thinking, Libby leaned toward B'Elanna so that her back was against B'Elanna's torso and hefted her up. One hand held onto B'Elanna's arm over her shoulder, and the other reached behind her to hold firmly onto the back of B'Elanna's thigh so she wouldn't slide off. With great difficulty Libby took a step forward.

"What the hell are you doing?" B'Elanna demanded from her position in the air.

"You have a better idea?" Libby groaned through the exertion. She kept moving forward, slowly, step by step, trying to brace the weight on the stronger parts of her back. "You could say thank you, you know."

"Put me down!" B'Elanna shouted in a tone of voice that sounded vaguely like a lion roaring. Libby had never heard it before and was certain she never wanted to hear it again. She complied, easing B'Elanna off her back and trying to put her onto her feet as gently as possible.

B'Elanna fell to the ground. "_Dor-sho-gha!"_she bellowed, pounding a fist into the ground.

Libby didn't understand the exact translation, but the general meaning was fairly clear. She put her hands on her hips and tapped a foot impatiently. "Look, B'Elanna, I know I'm not your favorite person, and you probably don't think I'm good enough for Harry. You wouldn't be any kind of friend if you did. And I'm sure you're used to saving starships from blowing up while nursing phaser wounds. So this all seems pretty stupid and annoying to you. But the fact is this: you can't walk, and we're still pretty far from camp. So either I leave you here to get Tom, so your pride will only be bruised in front of your husband, or I take you back there myself. The first choice means you get to lie here in pain for the hour or two it takes me, assuming we can even find you again, since it'll be dark soon." Before B'Elanna could interject, she continued. She was on a roll. "So, like it or not, the best option is for me to help you get out of here. Now we can do it the hard way – with you trying to crawl on your hands and knees – or you can just accept that you need my help, and we can do it the easy way." She looked down at B'Elanna knowingly for a moment. Then, for good measure, tossed her a bone. "I promise this will just stay between the two of us."

"Fine," B'Elanna said at last through clenched teeth. "Help me. But only because I'm in a hurry to get back in time for dinner."

"Right."

Libby once again lifted B'Elanna onto her back and began the slow trudge forward toward their campsite. Although B'Elanna said nothing aloud, she was mighty impressed with Libby's strength and her willingness to stand up to her. In fact, she thought, Libby Kim might have just earned her respect.

* * *

"What the hell happened to you?" Tom asked as he pulled B'Elanna off Libby and into his arms.

"Long story," Libby said, straightening her back and rubbing it. Her job complete and her promise not to say anything upheld (and with no thanks from her rescued friend), Libby walked away from them and toward Harry and the two girls around the campfire.

Tom carried B'Elanna in his arms to their tent. He laid her down on a sleeping bag and rooted through their gear for the medkit. "Ah ha!" he said to himself, producing a tricorder. He knelt near B'Elanna's legs and scanned her. "So let me guess. You challenged Libby for Harry's honor, and she won?" He snapped the tricorder closed and rooted around for the correct medical instrument to treat her.

"Funny," B'Elanna said in a voice that indicated she found it nothing of the sort. She lifted her head up to see what Tom was doing. "You anticipated broken bones?"

"Osteogenic stimulator," he told her as he waved the device in front of an ankle. "Not exactly standard camping gear, but with our family, you never know." He moved to the other foot. "Looks like it came in handy." He deactivated the device. "Try to move."

B'Elanna tentatively rolled her left ankle in a slow circle. "It's fine. Thanks."

"It's healed," he corrected as he put the instrument away. "But it's not fine. Take it easy, okay?" He leaned close to her on the last question, punctuating it with a slight kiss on the lips.

"I will," she promised with a kiss of her own. "She carried me all the way here, Tom. We've been walking that way for about an hour."

"Libby?" he asked with disbelief.

"I guess I underestimated her," B'Elanna confirmed. "I want to go check on the girls. You should probably examine her. She might have pulled a muscle in her back carrying me like that."

B'Elanna walked cautiously over the fire, where Libby was sitting between L'Naan and Miral. They were each eating a hot dog. Harry was close to the flames, searing another dog. He looked up as she approached and smiled, signaling that the next hot dog would be hers.

B'Elanna sat down on the other side of L'Naan and looked over the child's head to Libby. Their eyes met, and B'Elanna said quietly, "Thanks." Libby gave a small nod in return. It was all they needed to say to each other.

* * *

"So, for all those keeping score, that's two broken bones, two lost wives, three sweaty days, and way too many s'mores," Tom reported as they packed up the last of their camping gear. "And one great game of Capture the Flag."

"All in all, a success," Harry echoed with a smile.

"So," Tom continued, genially putting one arm around B'Elanna and the other around Libby, "what do you think? Do it again next year?"

The two women looked at each and nodded.

"If we can all get shore leave at the same time again," B'Elanna said, "we should definitely do this again next year. Harry?"

Harry nodded his confirmation. "The annual Paris-Kim family camping trip. Sounds pretty good, doesn't it?"

"Only next year," Libby added, "no jungles."


	3. Chapter 3

_Synopsis: Set during various periods of time post-"Endgame." Canon-consistent (though, as it deals with time travel, may not seem so – keep reading, and it'll make sense). In Part One, Miral Paris and Andrew Kim (Harry's son) entered Starfleet Academy and began dating, to the chagrin of their parents. After three years together, Miral and Andrew headed off for summer internships at different ends of the quadrant and found themselves breaking up. The beginning of their last year at the Academy brought about a reconciliation. Faced with the end of their tenure as cadets and the possibility that their first duty assignments would once again scatter them around the galaxy, they became engaged. Tom and B'Elanna welcomed friends and family to their San Francisco home to celebrate Miral and Andrew's graduation and engagment, but the festivities were interrupted when Q2 appeared, announcing, to everyone's confusion, that he was the reason Andrew existed.__Part Two begins in the past, exploring what happened between "Endgame" and Part One._

* * *

**Chapter 3: Earth, Indiana, Bloomington, Janeway Residence, 2389**

"Kathryn!" Chakotay called as he walked around the outside of the house looking for her. "Kathryn!" He circled around the backyard and tromped across the grass toward the forest. "Hello?" _Where the hell is she? _It wasn't that he had anything important to tell her, but Chakotay liked seeing her face when he came home after three weeks – and she was always maddeningly hidden somewhere.

He found her on her knees under an oak tree with one hand outstretched toward a small ground squirrel. "What are you doing?"

"Shh," she whispered. "I think he likes me."

Chakotay took two steps closer to her, but the sound of the grass crunching under his feet caused the squirrel to scurry off. Kathryn rose to her feet, dusting off her pants and looked at him angrily.

"Why did you do that?"

"Sorry," he said, not the least bit apologetically. "I told you I'd be home at 1500."

She frowned as she placed a kiss on the corner of his mouth. "Did you expect me to drop everything and come running to greet you as you walked up to door?"

"Yes."

She looked even more exasperated until his face broke into a grin, and then hers did too. Then he reached out, and she held his hand as they walked back across the yard to the porch.

"Aren't you going to ask about my expedition?" he asked as they settled on the steps.

"How was your expedition?" she echoed. "Did you find anything interesting?"

Chakotay reached into his pocket and pulled out a small talisman. "I brought this back for you."

Kathryn took the object in her hands, turning it over several times. She looked up at him. "What is it?"

"It's a charm that you wear around your neck to protect yourself from evil spirits. Not that I think you need to protect yourself from anyone, but I thought it matched your eyes."

"It's beautiful," she said. "Thank you." She kissed him again, this time more sincerely.

"That's better," he said grumpily.

"I missed you," she said, holding his face in her hands. "Three weeks is a long time."

"Longer for me," he reminded her. "I was with ten nineteen-year-olds. Did I miss anything interesting around here?"

"I had lunch with Harry Kim yesterday," she reported.

"How is he?"

"Evasive," Kathryn said. "As if there was something he wanted to tell me but wouldn't. My guess is that Libby's pregnant."

"I don't know, Kathryn. They've been trying for years. I think they would tell everyone right away if it finally happened."

Kathryn silently disagreed with him but decided not to press the issue. "There's more news. Tom and B'Elanna are leaving the Enterprise. Did she tell you she'd been offered a position at the Klingon liaison's office?"

"She mentioned it to me a few months ago, but she said she was going to turn it down. She liked being the chief engineer of the flagship. What happened?"

"Tom was offered Academy flight instructor."

"Tom Paris? In charge of cadets?"

"He's a good instructor, Chakotay," Kathryn admonished. "He's worked with hundreds of new and recertified pilots."

"But the Academy is all about discipline. The flight program isn't even fun! It's following a series of commands between the moons of Saturn. I can't believe anyone would think Tom would be the right person for that job."

Kathryn turned to look at him sharply. She wouldn't let him forget that, in addition to being her friend, former helmsman, and the son of her mentor, Tom Paris was once her pet project. While she was no longer responsible for his actions or the choices he made, she certainly took pride in the fact that they were all good ones. "Chakotay, you shouldn't talk about Tom that way. He's incredibly disciplined, and if I was still commanding a ship, I'd want someone trained by Tom sitting at the helm."

"Well, I can't argue with that."

"Besides, he's your goddaughter's father."

"I won't hold it against L'Naan," he joked. Kathryn responded with an unamused frown. "So they're moving here, to Earth?"

She nodded, and some of the sparkle came back to her eyes. "You and B'Elanna can play hoverball every day if you want to."

That thought made Chakotay smile.

* * *

**San Francisco, Museum of Aquatic Sciences**

Harry crossed the spacious lobby of the museum with a kind of familiarity. He had many good memories of the place: there was the first time he'd visited Libby at work when they were engaged, when she'd made passionate love to him in her office (although they later discovered the entire staff had overheard them, definitely a bad memory); there were all the times they'd brought Miral and L'Naan to visit on the weekend; there was the party after Libby was promoted to director. This time, Harry knew, was going to top the list. He was carrying a bouquet of lilies to give his wife in celebration of her pregnancy. Although it wasn't really the anniversary of anything more than the day she happened to find out – the actual conception had been several weeks earlier – it gave him an excuse to surprise her at work.

He approached the offices and nodded to the employees as he walked past them. Once upon a time, he would have introduced himself and waited for them to summon Libby. They'd been married for eight years, though, and her staff were all familiar with him. The museum was very much Libby's turf, and he liked that it gave him a certain amount of his own clout.

He knocked on the door to Libby's office with the flowers in front of his face. The door opened, and she gasped in surprise.

"Harry Kim! What are you doing here?"

"Happy one week of being pregnant," he said, lowering the bouquet and leaning forward to kiss her. She pulled back so that it was just a quick peck on the lips.

Harry stepped inside the office, and Libby closed the door firmly behind him. Then she kissed him again, more deeply.

"Are those flowers for me?" she asked hopefully.

"I can't think of anyone else I'd give flowers to than the mother of my child."

"You're a sweet man," she said, cupping his cheek and kissing him again.

"How are you feeling?" Harry asked seriously when at last they pulled apart.

"I was a little sick this morning, but I'm okay now." She shook her head. "I still can't believe it."

"Neither can I," Harry said, sharing her disbelief. "I'm dying to tell everyone."

Libby shook her head firmly. "Not for a few more weeks. Just to be safe."

* * *

**USS Enterprise, Private Quarters of Torres-Paris Family**

Supervising a refit of a galaxy-class engine was simpler for B'Elanna Torres than the task at hand. Although she'd warned them days ago to begin packing, her daughters had not done so, and the Enterprise was now speeding toward Earth with their quarters in shambles. She surveyed the scene of their shared bedroom in frustration.

"This place is a mess!" she scolded them. "What have you two been doing? I told you to pack!"

L'Naan, who was sitting cross-legged on the floor, looked up at her with doe eyes. "Mom, you always said we have to do homework before anything else."

B'Elanna closed her eyes. "You do _not_ have to do your homework, L'Naan. You're not going back to school here." She opened her eyes again. "Besides, it doesn't look like you're doing homework, anyway. What have you been doing?" she repeated with frustration.

Miral quickly hid the padd in her hands behind her back. "Nothing, Mom," she swore. "We'll start packing now, I promise."

"No, now it's time for dinner. You'll pack after dinner, and I will sit in here and watch you get it done."

As Miral and L'Naan rose from the floor to head out to the common room, they both groaned. Nothing was worse, in their eyes, than being supervised by their mother.

The doors to their quarters slid open as Tom entered, exactly two minutes after his final duty shift.

"Wow," B'Elanna said, folding her arms across her chest. "You actually managed to get everything finished on time?"

Tom nodded proudly, but his face clouded over when he began to survey the room. "B'Elanna, I thought you were going to work on packing."

"I've been working on our bedroom," she said with equal irritation. "But those two haven't packed a single container."

"Are you kidding me?" Tom asked with evident exasperation. "We don't have time."

"I'm aware of that, Tom," she replied curtly. "Let's just eat dinner, and then I'll help them."

"If I had realized what a pain moving is, I never would have taken that post," he griped as he sat down at the table. He looked at Miral sternly. "Mom says you didn't pack anything yet."

She smiled sweetly at him. "Sorry, Daddy. We'll do it after dinner."

"What have you been doing all afternoon?" he demanded, for once unmoved by his daughter's phony charm. He looked crossly at L'Naan to let her know her sister wasn't the only one in trouble.

"Uh…" Miral hesitated.

B'Elanna returned from the replicator and placed a large salad to the table. She kissed Tom's temple and gave his shoulder a little rub.

"What was that for?" he asked, looking up at her.

"For your new job," she said, taking the seat next to him. Her voice was calmer, sweeter. It was her way of telling him that even if they were annoyed at their daughters, they were a team and shouldn't fight with each other.

Tom understood and smiled at her. "Okay, let's plan the first thing we want to do when we get to San Francisco," he said to their daughters as he served them.

"I want to see Grandpa," L'Naan said.

"L'Naan," her sister reminded her with a roll of her eyes, "we're _staying_ with Grandpa." She looked at her father. "I'd like to visit Harry and Libby."

Tom nodded; that was at the top of his list as well. "B'Elanna?"

"Well," she said as she finished chewing a mouthful of salad, "I'd like to see Chakotay."

"Can I come with you?" L'Naan asked. Harry might have been Miral's favorite uncle, but L'Naan's special bond was with Chakotay.

"Of course," B'Elanna replied. "If you're off the Enterprise by then."

"What do you mean?" her daughter asked with concern.

"Well, if you don't finish packing tonight, you'll have to stay here tomorrow to finish," B'Elanna explained. "Of course, the Enterprise is only scheduled to stay in orbit for a day, so if you don't finish then, you might be stuck heading to the Deneva sector with everyone else on the ship while Miral and I play hoverball with Chakotay."

L'Naan looked worried for a moment until her sister and parents all started laughing. "You wouldn't really leave me on the ship," she told her mother.

"Of course not," B'Elanna assured as she rubbed L'Naan's back affectionately. "But I do want you to finish packing your room at a reasonable hour tonight. I don't want to stay up all night helping you."

"Mom," Miral interrupted, "do you really have to help us? We can do it ourselves."

"I think you've already demonstrated that you need supervision," Tom reminded her sternly. She glared at him, and he stared back, unblinking, until she turned away.

"Hey, L'Naan," she said suddenly. "Did I ever tell you that when you were little, we used to have yellow alerts at dinner? When Dad would give you the spoon to try to feed yourself, he'd say, 'Yellow alert,' and Mom and I knew that meant we should watch out for flying food."

"He did not!"

"He did," Miral insisted.

L'Naan looked to their mother, who nodded in confirmation. "When you were really little," she explained. "I'm surprised Miral was even old enough to remember it."

"Yellow alert!" Miral yelled, throwing a cherry tomato in L'Naan's direction. It missed and rolled across the carpet into the living room area.

"Miral Paris!" Tom barked. "Go to your room!"

With a satisfied smile on her face, Miral slid off her chair and went obediently into her bedroom.

Tom and B'Elanna exchanged a look. Certainly Miral was known to misbehave, but throwing food at her sister was unusual. Furthermore, when ordered to her room, her usual response was to protest, but she had gone more than willingly. It was obvious to both of them that she was up to something.

"Okay, squirt," Tom said to the remaining daughter, "spill it. What's going on?"

L'Naan calmly looked from one parent to the other. "I think you should trust me when I say I can't tell you."

_What kind of answer is that from an eight-year-old?_ B'Elanna wondered. "Why not?"

"It's a surprise," she admitted. "And the reason we weren't packing was because we were working on it."

"I'm sure it's something very sweet," B'Elanna said, "but we really need to pack up our quarters."

"Squirt, why didn't you just tell us?" Tom asked. "Why did she want me to send her to her room?"

"Because we aren't finished," L'Naan explained. "Don't you always say that we should always be able to trust each other?"

Tom and B'Elanna exchanged another look, unsure of their next move.

* * *

**Earth, San Francisco, Kim Family Residence**

Harry looked at the chronometer as he soon as he opened the front door. He had made two promises to Libby when she found out she was pregnant: that he would not work longer than ten hours a day and that he would be home for dinner by 1900 every night. It was 1845. She was going to be impressed.

As he entered their apartment, he got a whiff of curry and felt his stomach growl. It had been a long time since Libby had made curry – she didn't like the way it made the house smell the next day – but he was looking forward to it. He remembered with some humor how disastrous her attempts to make dinner had been in the first years of their marriage. Now he loved coming home to her cooking.

"Libs!" he called. "I'm fifteen minutes early, and it smells delicious!"

She wasn't in the kitchen. Harry removed the pot that she'd left on the plasma burner and went into their bedroom to find her. He didn't see her there either, but he heard her. It sounded as if she was crying.

As Harry opened the door to the bathroom, the hunger in his stomach was replaced with a knot of dread. He found Libby slouched on the floor, clutching her stomach with one hand and looking with disbelief at the blood that covered the other.

* * *

**Residence of Admiral Owen Paris**

The first person Tom noticed as he walked into his parents' house was his sister. He dropped the Starfleet-issue duffel bag he was carrying and walked quickly over to her, lifting her in an embrace.

"What are you doing here?" he asked with amazement.

"Mom said you and B'Elanna were arriving today, so we thought we'd surprise you," she answered. She looked over his shoulder. "B'Elanna?"

B'Elanna smiled and gave her a quick hug. "We thought we were just coming to unload our stuff and go to bed. What's all this?"

Admiral Paris emerged from the kitchen. "We had to celebrate your homecoming," he explained as he took the bag B'Elanna was carrying and set it down on the floor. He put an arm around her and led her toward the kitchen. "There are a few others who want to say hello."

They walked through the kitchen and out the back door of the house to find Admiral Janeway, Chakotay, and the Doctor standing in the backyard with the rest of Tom's family.

"B'Elanna!" the Doctor called. He jogged over to the bewildered engineer and embraced her. "A little surprise welcome-home party."

"I can see that," she said. "Whose idea was this?"

"Your daughters'," he told her, moving aside so Chakotay could get his turn with her. He turned his attention to his goddaughter. "Miral! Come over here and tell me everything you've been learning in science class."

"Hey," Chakotay said with a smile. "We'll be seeing a lot more of each other now. Congratulations on the new job."

"Thanks," she said, "but we both know it's not really about my credentials as much as my DNA."

"It's still an important job, and you're the perfect person for it."

They were interrupted as L'Naan ran eagerly up to Chakotay. He grunted a little as he picked her up and spun her around.

"Be careful!" Janeway called. "Your back." She turned to Tom. "Congratulations on the new assignment, Commander."

"Thank you, Admiral. Did you have anything to do with it?" She held up her hand in a silent oath that she didn't. "My dad?"

She shook her head again. "You're the best person for the job, Tom, and everyone in Starfleet knows it," she assured him, patting him on the chest. "You look tired."

"We were up all night packing," he admitted. "L'Naan and Miral waited until the last minute to begin."

"Go easy on them," she said. "This party was their idea."

Tom looked at B'Elanna in surprise.

"Harry said to tell you he's sorry he and Libby couldn't come," Janeway continued quietly. "Libby wasn't feeling well."

"Well, we're happy to see you."

Once Chakotay told L'Naan he needed a rest, she marched over to her parents and crossed her arms over her chest. "Now are you still angry that we were hiding something from you?"


	4. Chapter 4

_Synopsis: Set during various periods of time post-"Endgame." Canon-consistent (though, as it deals with time travel, may not seem so – keep reading, and it'll make sense). In Part One, Miral Paris and Andrew Kim (Harry's son) entered Starfleet Academy and began dating, to the chagrin of their parents. After three years together, Miral and Andrew headed off for summer internships at different ends of the quadrant and found themselves breaking up. The beginning of their last year at the Academy brought about a reconciliation. Faced with the end of their tenure as cadets and the possibility that their first duty assignments would once again scatter them around the galaxy, they became engaged. Tom and B'Elanna welcomed friends and family to their San Francisco home to celebrate Miral and Andrew's graduation and engagment, but the festivities were interrupted when Q2 appeared, announcing, to everyone's confusion, that he was the reason Andrew existed.__Part Two begins in the past, exploring what happened between "Endgame" and Part One._

* * *

**Chapter 4: En Route to Qo'noS, Klingon Homeworld, 2390**

At the sound of the navigational warning beep, B'Elanna Torres glanced down to adjust their course heading. She looked over at the imposing figure in the seat next to her. He was lost in thought, presumably unaware of what she was doing.

Although she and Worf had met during her Voyager debriefing many years before, they had just started working together as Federation liaisons to the Klingon Empire. It wasn't that she hadn't loved her job as chief engineer of the Enterprise, but Tom had been offered the position of Academy flight instructor – a position he couldn't refuse, and one she didn't want him to. They'd moved back to Earth, closer to his family and to some of their friends, and she'd been thrust into diplomacy, as one of only two Klingons to have served in Starfleet.

The other, of course, was Worf, her new mentor and boss. B'Elanna still didn't feel that she knew the old Klingon very well, and his trust in her abilities to successfully pilot them to Qo'noS, while completely founded and appropriate, nonetheless warmed her.

"Mom?" L'Naan's delicate voice came from behind her. B'Elanna spun around in her chair. "Do you have a second to look at the specs for the power cell?"

"Sure." B'Elanna extended a hand, into which L'Naan placed the padd she'd been working with. B'Elanna's eyes narrowed as she skimmed through the data. "It's been a long time since I worked with robotics, and there have been a lot of developments in the technology since then, but…" She looked up and returned the padd to L'Naan. "I think you'll find that the circuits will overload if you supply the unit with that much energy. You might want to check using an electromagnetic synthemometer."

L'Naan nodded in understanding. "What if I use a protective sheath around isolinear pathways?"

B'Elanna said nothing, waiting for her daughter to think through her own idea.

"But that would slow down the computational speed, and it would probably lose its superlocomotive abilities." She tapped the padd against her palm. "So I guess it's back to the drawing board?"

B'Elanna nodded. "But you're getting closer." She turned back to the conn as L'Naan returned to the aft of the shuttle.

"Robotics?" Worf asked.

"She's building a robot for a science project. Her dream in life is to design an android with a more sophisticated brain than Noonien Soong's positronic matrix."

"A lofty goal for a nine-year-old." Worf paused. "She resembles you in many ways – looks, mannerisms, and, apparently, talents."

"Really?" B'Elanna regarded him with curiosity. "All I see is Tom when I look at her. But thanks."

Worf said nothing in reply, and they once again lapsed into an agreeable silence. B'Elanna busied herself with a sensor sweep, but after a minute she dared to ask, "Does Alexander resemble you?"

"Not really." Another pause. "He had a difficult childhood."

Worf's voice suddenly sounded very sad, and B'Elanna was almost sorry she'd broached the subject. Although she'd met Alexander Rozhenko once or twice, the meetings had been brief and cordial, and she didn't know him very well.

Worf's eyes drifted out the viewport as he continued to talk. "It was my fault. After his mother's death, he was raised by my human parents, and then he was thrust back into the world of the Empire. When he was young, he thought all I cared about was honor. Then when he was older, he didn't think I was honorable enough." Worf sighed. "I pushed him into being Klingon in ways I don't think he appreciated."

"Sounds like my relationship with my mother," B'Elanna told him. "The more she tried to get me to appreciate my heritage, the more I wanted nothing to do with it." _So we were all raised the outsider among humans, _she thought, _and now we've all drifted back into the world of the Empire. I wonder what that means._

"When did you begin to embrace being Klingon?" Worf asked her.

"It was a strange turn of events," she told him with a small smile.

"The _kuvah'magh_?" he asked, referring the claim a group of Klingons in the Delta Quadrant had made that Miral (at that time still unborn) was their savior. Although most of the Klingons in the Empire dismissed the idea, there were still plenty of myths and even a few academic papers on the subject to keep the incident marginally known in the Beta Quadrant.

"It began before that, but that was a part of it. Actually, it took me a long time to accept who I am. Tom played a big role." She laughed lightly. "You know, sometimes I think he's more Klingon than I am. He's better with the language – I've only got the swearing down. And he cares about tradition and honor far more than I do." She quickly registered that Worf was not amused by this news. _No doubt. You just told him that his assistant doesn't actually care about any of this, idiot. _With little left to lose, B'Elanna decided to press a subject she'd been curious about since she'd studied Worf's file. "What about your wife Jadzia? Didn't she have a deep passion for Klingon culture?"

Worf's lips pursed, and he frowned. Then he decided to trust the woman sitting next to him, who, after all, perhaps understood his life better than anyone else in either the United Federation of Planets or the Klingon Empire. She also had a kind of fire that reminded him of both of the great loves in his life. Her sardonic attitude toward her double heritage was all K'Ehleyr, but her ferocity and mischievous humor was Jadzia Dax. He wondered briefly if B'Elanna's daughters would have been anything like children he might have had with his long-deceased wife. Then he dismissed the thought: they were, after all, half Tom Paris. And Worf was certain that there was very little he had in common with Tom Paris.

"She had an affinity for our culture long before I met her." His dark eyes twinkled. "And, yes, she sometimes cared about tradition and honor more than I did." Their eyes met, and they smiled, sharing a silent moment of understanding.

Finally B'Elanna said, "I think I would have liked her."

Worf nodded. "And she would have liked you."

* * *

**Qo'noS, Lake of Lursor, Engineering School**

Although her mother had raised her and Miral to appreciate their Klingon heritage, L'Naan had never visited Qo'noS. The Klingon homeworld looked more ostentatious than she expected, but still the planet held a kind of enchantment over her.

When her cousin Tchok offered to take her to visit his engineering school – the very school B'Elanna could have attended in lieu of Starfleet Academy – L'Naan jumped at the chance. This would be her first opportunity to see non-Federation technology up close, to see if she really understood engineering as well as she thought or if she was just familiar with the computer systems used on Earth.

As they walked around the propulsion lab, L'Naan tried to keep her awe in check. She knew that looking too impressed would imply a kind of inferiority. With a rather passive expression on her face, she told Tchok, "It's hardly the Daystrom Institute. I don't know if I could attend such a pathetic school, _yur._"

"You are lucky to visit this school, much less attend, _pujwI',_" he replied with a snarl.

L'Naan couldn't help laughing, and after a moment Tchok joined in.

"You are one-quarter Klingon," he said more seriously. "That makes you one of us. You could apply to this school in a few years if you wanted to."

"That's really nice of you to say, Tchok, but we both know that whatever the law is, everyone here considers me a _kuveleta_."

"A few rituals could fix that. You could become a member of our house."

"Why are you being nice to me?" L'Naan wondered.

Tchok sneered at being called nice. "We need more engineers in our family."

"_NuqneH__! __QaStaH nuq?__!_"

Tchok turned to the door and called back, "_NaDevvo' yIghoS__!_"

"What's going on?" L'Naan asked as Tchok's older sister strode into the lab.

"My pathetic excuse for a brother is putting weak ideas into your head," Derela told her. "He soils the name of the House of Abaran with his love of tinkering and his disdain for the battlefield."

L'Naan tried to stand up as tall as she could, but Derela, who was six years older and fully Klingon, loomed over her. "My mother says warriors may get all the glory, but engineers are the ones who build societies."

"_Hab SoSlI' Quch__!_" Derela shouted, leaning toward her.

L'Naan realized too late that her mother's philosophy was, for her cousin, a battle cry. _Kahless, she's going to want to fight me!_

Derela pulled a _d'k tahg_ knife from her pant leg and clicked the side blades into place. "I challenge you to prove your worth, engineer!"

L'Naan turned to Tchok in a panic. He tossed her his own sheathed knife, which she caught and hopelessly held in her hands. This was not how she'd imagined her first visit to the homeworld, but she didn't want to cause her family dishonor by turning down a formal challenge.

"Defend yourself, human!" Derela ordered.

"I am Klingon!" L'Naan shouted back, opening the knife. "_Heghlu'meH QaQ jajvam__!_" She held the knife in front of her, preparing for the ensuing disaster.

To her surprise, Derela closed her knife and began to laugh heartily. Tchok laughed as well. L'Naan stood frozen in confusion until Tchok took the knife from her hand and patted her on the back.

"You have proven yourself worthy, L'Naan, daughter of B'Elanna," Tchok explained. "Now let me show you my design for an improved antimatter flow."

* * *

**First City, High Council, Diplomatic Guest Chambers**

"Mom, do I _have_ to?"

"You were so excited yesterday."

"_Yesterday_ was fun. _Yesterday_ Qo'noS was new. _Yesterday_ they showed me the engineering lab. Today is different. It's dinner. And I hear they're serving _gagh_."

"_Gagh_ is the least of your worries," B'Elanna told her. "There are other Klingon foods that are much, much worse. Now put on the damned sash, so I won't be late." As L'Naan reluctantly took the ceremonial sash from her mother, B'Elanna reminded her, "You're the one who wanted to come here with me."

"I know, I know." L'Naan adjusted the material over her shoulder and frowned at the large United Federation of Planets insignia, intended to demarcate her "house." She'd be the only person at the dinner (apart from her mother) whose house was not her lineage but an interstellar alliance, and though she was only nine, she was smart enough to realize it was a way of excluding her. Here she was not Klingon, in spite of her physical attributes; here on the homeworld she was first and foremost a Federation citizen, a human. She looked up, awaiting her mother's reaction.

Her mother was laughing. "You look ridiculous!"

"Mom!" L'Naan struggled to get out of the sash, and B'Elanna swiftly stopped her.

"I'm sorry. It's fine. Really, you look great." She adjusted the sash on L'Naan's right shoulder. "It's only for two hours, and then you can come back here and work on your power cell modifications."

"Which is _much_ more interesting than a stupid diplomatic dinner."

B'Elanna raised her eyebrows. "You _are_ like me," she murmured to herself. She put a hand on her daughter's shoulder and guided her out the door. "Come on, Worf is waiting."

After two hours of polite conversation following by singing and too much bloodwine consumed by their Klingon hosts, B'Elanna and L'Naan returned to their rooms for the evening. B'Elanna needed to review her notes for their morning meeting regarding the protection of the Karemma in the region of the Gamma Quadrant once controlled by the long-defunct Dominion. L'Naan had had her fill of exotic culture and wanted to report everything back to her sister on Earth before returning to her robotics project.

"Hi, Dad," she said to the screen in front of her.

"Hey, squirt," Tom replied. "How's the homeworld?"

"Hot, dark, and boring. Except watching Ambassador T'Lehr get drunk on bloodwine was pretty funny." Her eyes widened. "And Worf singing battle hymns was pretty great."

Tom smiled. "Did your mom sing, too?"

L'Naan glanced over her shoulder to where B'Elanna was sitting on the sofa, drinking a raktajino and reviewing a padd. She leaned toward the monitor and dropped her voice. "She kept getting the words and the pronunciation wrong, so Gujot finally whispered to her to stop before she caused a diplomatic incident."

Tom laughed. "Will you get her, squirt? I want to talk to her."

"Okay, but I want to talk to Miral, so don't take long."

"Yes, ma'am."

L'Naan rose from the floor and went over to the sofa. "Dad wants you," she informed her mother. "And don't be forever. I have to talk to Miral."

"Bossy, aren't we?" B'Elanna commented as she crossed the room to the screen. She knelt down where L'Naan had been and looked at Tom's familiar face on screen. "Hi."

"Hi. What's on the agenda for tomorrow? Choir practice?"

"She told you." She smiled in spite of herself. "I think she's starting to regret coming."

"And you? How do you find the homeworld?"

"Hot, dark, and boring," she echoed. "But I think we're making real progress."

"With your charm? I'm sure you are."

Again an amused smirk on her face, though she didn't want to be gotten so easily by him. "I really have a lot of reading to do before the High Council meeting tomorrow, but I'll contact you tomorrow once I'm finished, okay?"

Tom nodded. "Go easy on the Klingons. They're not as tough as you. And come home soon, okay? _BomDI' 'IwwIj qaqaw._" B'Elanna grinned at the screen. "Cute. I'll be home next week. And then you'll _jachchoHmeH 'Iwraj penaghtaH."_

"Mom, come on! Let me talk to Miral!" L'Naan insisted.

B'Elanna exchanged a look with Tom. "_Qapla'_," he said with a smile as she rose to let L'Naan have the monitor. She went back to the sofa and took up her padd again, the thought of mating with Tom until his blood screamed causing her to grin every few seconds as she scrolled through the data.


	5. Chapter 5

_Synopsis: Set during various periods of time post-"Endgame." Canon-consistent (though, as it deals with time travel, may not seem so – keep reading, and it'll make sense). In Part One, Miral Paris and Andrew Kim (Harry's son) entered Starfleet Academy and began dating, to the chagrin of their parents. After three years together, Miral and Andrew headed off for summer internships at different ends of the quadrant and found themselves breaking up. The beginning of their last year at the Academy brought about a reconciliation. Faced with the end of their tenure as cadets and the possibility that their first duty assignments would once again scatter them around the galaxy, they became engaged. Tom and B'Elanna welcomed friends and family to their San Francisco home to celebrate Miral and Andrew's graduation and engagment, but the festivities were interrupted when Q2 appeared, announcing, to everyone's confusion, that he was the reason Andrew existed._

_Part Two begins in the past, exploring what happened between "Endgame" and Part One._

Note: Severe italics warning - a great portion of this chapter deals with a flashback.

* * *

**Chapter 5: Earth, San Francisco, Torres-Paris Family Residence, 2390**

"Annual camping trip," Tom reiterated. "The 'annual' part means once a year. It's been a year. Come on, Powell."

"There's no way I can get shore leave," Lieutenant Commander Dick Powell insisted from his computer terminal on the Enterprise. "I just got promoted to chief engineer, remember?"

"Maybe B'Elanna shouldn't have left the ship," Tom joked. "At least when she was chief engineer, you had free time."

"That's what Margaret says. Anyway, Tom, come on. If I get a week of shore leave, I'm going to spend it with Margaret and the kids. I'm not going camping with you and Harry."

Tom frowned at the monitor. While his return to Earth had made it a lot easier to spend quality time with one planet-bound Harry Kim, it did not make being friends with spacefaring Dick Powell very easy. All he wanted was for them to share a family camping trip, as they'd done for several years.

"Look, Powell, what if I talk to Rainier? Maybe I can convince him you need the time off."

The idea of Tom Paris having any pull with the first officer of the Enterprise made Powell laugh out loud. "In an alternate universe, maybe, Tom."

"Powell, you're killing me. It's supposed to be your kids and my kids hanging out together, remember? Miral and L'Naan won't have any fun unless Jeremy and Tony are there." The look his friend gave him told Tom his powers of persuasion needed some work. "Me, you, and Harry?" he said hopefully, hearing the desperation in his own voice. "Like old times?"

_**  
Betazed, Janaran Falls, 2385**_

_The Enterprise's mission to Betazed, which coincided with Harry and Libby's visit to the ship, was just the excuse Tom needed to arrange a third annual camping trip. Their first officer, Commander Rainier, had been in an especially good mood and had granted shore leave to Tom, B'Elanna, and Powell all at once. _

_As B'Elanna unrolled a sleeping bag inside their tent on the first night, she pointed out, "We could just transport back to the ship and sleep in the comfort of our quarters."_

"_That would defeat the entire purpose of camping," Tom reminded her as he tucked Miral's blanket around her. He looked over his shoulder at his wife. "B'Elanna, are you going to…?" Her eyes answered no, and Tom whispered to his daughter, "Be right back, munchkin."_

_Outside their tent, Tom found Powell and Harry. "B'Elanna refuses to do the back-up vocals," he explained._

"_You know," Powell confessed, as he obligingly followed Tom back to his tent, "I never really cared much about history until I met you. Now I think the twentieth-century is pretty…"_

"_Cool?" Harry suggested, smirking at his own adoption of historic slang._

_Inside the tent, the three knelt beside Miral and L'Naan's sleeping bags. Tom cleared his throat and signaled for them to start._

"_Good-night sweetheart, well, it's time to go," he sang._

_Right on cue, Harry and Powell joined in, "Da duh-da da da."_

_At the other end of the tent, B'Elanna covered her mouth to stifle her laughter.  
_

Powell shook his head. "You're starting to sound a little pathetic, Tom. Go with Harry and Libby and have fun. Tell the chief and the girls hi, will you?" Powell terminated communication.

Tom groaned audibly and called Harry at work – it seemed everyone worked a lot more than he did these days. The lieutenant commander looked stressed, so Tom turned on his charm. "Harry, buddy, it's time for the annual camping trip."

"What? Already? Didn't we just go?"

"No, we just went eleven months and two weeks ago. Listen, the Powells can't come, so it'll just be us. Do you think we should invite Chakotay?"

"No, then the admiral will come."

Tom's eyes widened. "Harry!"

"Come on, I care for Admiral Janeway, but that doesn't mean I want to spend a free weekend standing at attention over a campfire." His eyes flicked to the screen. "Don't tell her I said that."

"Your secret's safe with me. Can you get Libby on board?" Harry nodded. "Look, B'Elanna's on her way back from Qo'noS right now, so I'm thinking in two weeks in Montana."

"Whatever, just send me the information." Harry terminated the link.

Tom frowned. It was not shaping up to be the camping trip he'd anticipated.

* * *

"Seriously? Come on!" Miral scowled as she stormed past her parents.

For their part Tom and B'Elanna either didn't notice her or didn't care. They were sitting on the couch, arms around each other, lost in some fairly chaste kissing. B'Elanna and L'Naan had arrived home only an hour earlier after their foray to the Klingon homeworld, and Tom wasn't wasting any time in catching up with his wife.

Miral marched down the hall and burst into her little sister's room without knocking. L'Naan, who was lying on her bed, reading, sat up in surprise with a cry at the intrusion. "Hey! Ever hear of knocking?"

Miral sat on the edge of the bed. "Did you see them?" she demanded.

"Who?"

"Mom and Dad."

"I think they're in the living room."

Miral sighed dramatically and marched her sister down the hall by the hand. At the doorway to the living room, she pointed to their parents. Tom's hands cupped B'Elanna's face, and her hands grazed his sides as they kissed.

L'Naan shrugged as she looked at them. "So what?"

Miral rolled her eyes. "Don't you think that's disgusting?" she said loud enough for her parents to hear. "In the middle of the living room?"

"I think it's kind of cute," L'Naan confessed. "They really like each other."

"Hello!" Miral yelled impatiently at Tom and B'Elanna. "We are home!"

Tom stopped kissing B'Elanna and looked over her shoulder. "Do you need something?" he asked innocently.

Miral huffed, hands on hips. "Can't you do that somewhere else?"

"We could," he said slowly, "but it wouldn't be as much fun." His eyes flashed quickly toward B'Elanna, and they shared a wicked smile.

This only served to further enrage Miral, who threw up her hands in exasperation. "I'd like to know if Powell and Margaret make out in front of Jeremy and Tony!" she called over her shoulder as she stormed out of the room.

"So would I!" Tom called back. "Let me know what you find out."

L'Naan glanced back at her parents on the sofa and decided to Miral back into her bedroom to figure out why she was so upset.

"Why does it bother you so much?" she asked, bursting into her sister's room with the same lack of politesse Miral had shown her earlier.

Miral snorted. "I can hear them often enough. I don't need to see it."

"What's your problem?" L'Naan asked more insistently, sitting down on Miral's bed.

"L'Naan, you're nine. What do you know about anything?"

"I don't know anything about anything really," L'Naan admitted. "But I know you're being kind of selfish."

"Selfish?" Miral spat. She threw herself backward onto the mattress and covered her face with her forearm.

"Yeah. You always want them to act a certain way, and you get mad when they don't."

This gave Miral pause. She twirled a strand of hair in her fingers while she contemplated. "Maybe, but I think it's their duty as parents to set a good example. It is not appropriate for them to engage in that kind of behavior in front of you. You're too young."

L'Naan did not point out that their parents were not in front of her, as she had been in her bedroom until Miral dragged her out. Instead, she suggested, "Maybe they're modeling good behavior because they show us that they really love each other." She may have been the younger sister, but she was already aware that she, not Miral, was the one who understood people. She was also intuitive enough to know that Miral was aware of her superior intuition and hated it.

L'Naan had just pressed the issue a step too far. She'd said exactly the right thing to make Miral back down, and it gave Miral reason to rise up instead. "Kahless, L'Naan, you don't understand anything! You're such a child! I don't even know why I thought I could talk to you about this!" Miral stormed out of her own bedroom.

* * *

"Did your parents kiss in front of you when you were a kid?" B'Elanna asked, pulling the covers on her side of the bed back and climbing in.

"Not as much as we do," Tom told her from his side, "but yes." He brought his left arm behind his head for support.

B'Elanna drew herself up against him and kissed his cheek before resting her head on his chest.

Tom took the opportunity to stroke her now graying hair. "Don't tell me Miral is actually getting to you."

"I don't understand why she and I are always fighting."

"Because she's twelve," Tom assured her. "You're not supposed to get along."

"Yeah, well, our relationship is starting to remind me of my relationship with another Miral. The two of us fighting all the time, until the other person in the household decides he can't deal with it anymore and leaves."

Tom squeezed his eyes shut. Insecurity about what she perceived as his imminent departure had not been an issue since the first year of their marriage, and he could do without it ever becoming an issue again. "This is _not_ about you and your mother," Tom assured her. "You and Miral have a great relationship. Girls fighting with their mothers is a normal part of growing up." He deliberately ignored the broader implication of her statement, the part where she hinted that he'd leave her. That part wasn't even worth acknowledging, as far as he was concerned.

"Then why is it so easy for me to get along with L'Naan?"

"Because she's me. Easygoing, understands people. And Miral is you. Moody and difficult."

B'Elanna huffed a little, knowing he was right but resenting his choice of words. "Worf said that he thought L'Naan was me. She is a brilliant engineer, after all."

"That's true," Tom conceded, "and Miral is the one with the great sense of humor, like me."

_Sometimes I can't tell if I want to laugh at you or punch you, Tom Paris_, B'Elanna thought as she buried her face in his chest. After a few silent moments, an image flashed in her mind, and she started laughing, out of awkwardness at first but then uncontrollably.

"What?" he wanted to know.

She lifted her head to look at him. "I was just imagining what it would be like to walk in on your parents."

* * *

**Western Montana**

On the first night of their camping trip, Miral and L'Naan left the fire circle early. There was some fairly palpable tension in the air, and retreating to their tent seemed prudent. Libby and B'Elanna loitered around the dying fire, drinking the last of the coffee in silence. Harry made what sounded to everyone like a flimsy excuse, that he wanted to show Tom a new book he was reading, and the two left for Tom and B'Elanna's tent.

Once inside, they settled on top of the sleeping bags.

"Out with it, Harry," Tom ordered. "You and Libby have both been acting strange since we got here."

"This could be the beginning of the end for us," Harry admitted with a sigh.

"What's going on?" Tom asked him. He couldn't remember ever seeing Harry so distressed about his marriage. He was marginally reassured that Harry's recent bad mood wasn't just the result of working too hard, that it came from a more important source.

"It's too hard to explain," Harry replied. "It's just…over."

"Do you want it to be?"

"No! Of course not."

"Then start fighting for it," Tom said gruffly, annoyed at Harry's complacency. He was ruining their camping trip, for one thing, and Tom thought he sounded like a defeatist who could do nothing but watch his world come apart.

"Easy for you to say," Harry snapped. "You and B'Elanna always fight, but somehow you have the strongest marriage of anyone I know. It's as if fighting actually makes you closer."

"And you and Libby never fight, and you're worried that's the problem?"

Harry sneered. "What do you know about having your marriage fall apart?"

Tom sized Harry up for a second as he drew in a breath. Given the circumstances, he hoped B'Elanna would agree with his choice to confide in Harry. He wanted to prove that his marriage was not perfect, in hopes that Harry would see that his own was worth fighting for. "I have two stories for you," he said slowly. "One makes me look bad, and one makes B'Elanna look bad."

"Oh yeah?" Harry said cynically. "What could you possibly tell me?"

Tom gave a slight smirk. "That we nearly cheated on each other."

_  
**USS Enterprise, Private Quarters of Torres-Paris Family, 2384**_

"_Tom, hi," B'Elanna said a little breathlessly. She quickly rose from her chair but couldn't suppress the embarrassed smile that spread across her face._

_Tom saw the contortions of her facial muscles. It aroused a wave of anxiety in him. His stomach felt as if it had been punched. For years he had lived with his emotions nearly at the surface in trust that they were safe to expose to B'Elanna, but masquerading as devil-may-care had once been second nature to him. Without thinking about it consciously, Tom slipped back into that pattern when he saw B'Elanna's phony smile. He smiled back, nonchalantly, and in an easy voice said, "Hi. What's going on?"_

"_This is Lieutenant Stixa," she said, gesturing at the tall, dark, and handsome Bajoran officer who had just risen from the sofa. _

"_Nice to meet you," Tom said flatly. He didn't offer his hand. He watched the officer sit back down on his sofa. His. In his living room. In his quarters. Since Stixa didn't seem to be leaving and since B'Elanna was still standing awkwardly on the other side of the room, Tom took a breath and said, "Well, if you'll excuse me..." _

_A minute later B'Elanna entered their bedroom while he was changing out of his uniform and into his favorite orange shirt. "Hey," she said lightly, "how was your day?"_

"_Fine." She hadn't yet kissed him hello, he realized, even though they rarely greeted or left each other without at least a quick peck._

"_Good, good." Her voice wasn't just light; it was artificial, as if she was using all her strength to keep her tone casual. _

_Tom had never heard that tone before, and he decided immediately that he never wanted to hear it again. A hot surge coursed through his body. __Do you really think I can't hear it in your voice?__ He jerked around, his cold eyes meeting her artificial smile. "B'Elanna, what are you doing?" he asked, hearing how strangely casual his own voice sounded._

"_What? Oh, Stixa? He just left. I think I mentioned him before, didn't I? He's the new deflector specialist. We were just talking about –"_

_Listening to her prattle on was too much. Tom wasn't sure what was worse: that he knew – he __knew__ – she was up to no good or that she was idiotic enough to think he didn't know her better. That she didn't realize he could see right through her. As he regarded her thoughtfully, he decided it was the latter that upset him more._

_Damn it, B'Elanna, I know you. I know all your moves. _

"_Save it," he said tersely. "This is me you're talking to. What are you doing?" This time the question was forceful, deliberate, demanding an answer._

_B'Elanna huffed slightly as she approached him. "Tom, what are you talking about?"_

_He shook his head, unmoved even as she put her arms around his neck. He carefully removed them with a snide laugh. "Okay, either you don't want to talk, or you aren't ready to admit it to yourself."_

_She gave a little laugh. A kind of twitter he'd never heard before. "You're being a little sensitive, aren't you?"_

_Tom shook his head again. If nothing else, it was the simple fact that she was smiling and laughing that did it. The real B'Elanna – his B'Elanna – would be angry if falsely accused. She'd attack him, furious that he suspected anything. The person in front of him was giddy – and therefore guilty. "Lieutenant…Stixa, is it? Handsome guy." He pushed past her out the door. "Shrimp for dinner?"_

_Neither spoke while Tom replicated dinner and B'Elanna set out napkins and utensils. Once they sat down, neither ate much. Their only conversation was encouraging Miral and L'Naan to eat._

_After fifteen excruciating minutes, B'Elanna announced that she was going back to work. She kissed each of the girls and pushed back from the table. _

_Tom just nodded as she walked out of their quarters. Then he returned his attention to L'Naan. Part of him had anticipated this day, he realized, not because he didn't trust B'Elanna and didn't think she was capable of being loyal to him. But she had been too elusive for too many years before and during their courtship, and he had only won her in a strange, sudden turn of events. Even after they were married, she continued to doubt that Tom was hers, completely and totally, that he had long ago decided nothing could ever make him leave her. It was natural she would test that._

_Tom had never fully understood what powers in the cosmos had decided to give him her heart and her trust, but he knew that they did trust each other. They gave each other space and provided each other security and support, but they did not demand of each other as other couples they knew did. Marriage had been a lot less rocky for them than dating, but expecting someone to be faithful until the day she died – it seemed a little far-fetched. Giving B'Elanna the space she needed, he realized, might just mean being willing to lose his security._

_When Miral and L'Naan finished eating, he led them into their room to get ready for bed. He summoned all his energy and acting skills to tell them a bedtime story. He then returned to the living room, ready to watch some cartoons to clear his mind._

_He found B'Elanna curled up in her favorite chair in the corner, in the familiar position of knees to chest, padd in hand. She barely looked up as Tom approached._

"_B'Elanna," he began gently, knowing that his approach had to be just right. If it was off by even one degree, he'd burn up in the atmosphere. __But she's the one who's thinking about cheating.__ "This isn't the first time you and Stixa were hanging out together when I got home."_

_She looked up from her padd long enough to say, "We were working on the modifications for the deflector array."_

"_Okay, if you say so," Tom said. He believed her. He just didn't think that was the whole story. "But I can tell you're attracted to him." He took a breath and initiated maneuvering thrusters. "Have you slept with him?"_

_Brown eyes shot up. "Don't be ridiculous, Tom."_

_Klingons – his Klingon – were known for being warm, passionate, for despising the cold. That was perhaps why the ice in her voice set Tom on edge._

"_But you want to." __Slow and steady, Tom. Don't back off but easy on the thrusters._

_Finally, B'Elanna put the padd down on the table and lowered her feet to the floor. "I don't know," she said at last._

_Tom leapt to warp. "Of course you do! You were practically drooling on him!"_

_B'Elanna jumped to her feet. "I was not!"_

"_Are you really going to deny it?" He spun around to face her, and suddenly the absurdity of the situation hit Tom. They'd survived the Borg, alien identity thieves, her near-suicide – they'd even survived his Captain Proton phase, and now something as innocuous as a Bajoran lothario was threatening to tear them apart? Tom nearly wanted to laugh. Instead, he caught himself and said calmly, "This is it, B'Elanna. The moment of truth. Either you want to explore this or we're keeping our commitment to each other. But we have to decide. __You__ have to decide."_

_B'Elanna processed the implications of what he was saying. Several interminable moments passed. "I'm so sorry," she whispered finally._

_And there it was. She was the one who had done wrong, the one who had hurt him, but all she had to do was realize how wrong she was and look sad and teary at having hurt him, and he was instantly sorry he'd forced her into the conversation, sorry that he'd accused her. He put his arms around her. _

"_It's okay," he whispered. __No, it's not__, a small voice inside him said. He ignored it. "Just tell me what you want to do."_

"_I don't want to hurt you." A long pause. "But I have feelings I can't stop."_

_Tom stepped away from her. "You can't have it both ways," he told her softly. He held her gaze for a moment, and then he walked away._


	6. Chapter 6

_Synopsis: Set during various periods of time post-"Endgame." Canon-consistent (though, as it deals with time travel, may not seem so – keep reading, and it'll make sense). In Part One, Miral Paris and Andrew Kim (Harry's son) entered Starfleet Academy and began dating, to the chagrin of their parents. After three years together, Miral and Andrew headed off for summer internships at different ends of the quadrant and found themselves breaking up. The beginning of their last year at the Academy brought about a reconciliation. Faced with the end of their tenure as cadets and the possibility that their first duty assignments would once again scatter them around the galaxy, they became engaged. Tom and B'Elanna welcomed friends and family to their San Francisco home to celebrate Miral and Andrew's graduation and engagment, but the festivities were interrupted when Q2 appeared, announcing, to everyone's confusion, that he was the reason Andrew existed._

_Part Two begins in the past, exploring what happened between "Endgame" and Part One._

Note: Another chapter with a lot of flashbacks and, consequently, a lot of italics.

* * *

**Chapter 6: Earth, Western Montana, 2390**

"B'Elanna? Are you kidding?" Harry Kim asked as his friend paused in the middle of his story. "What happened?"

"Harry, don't be so surprised," Tom Paris said. "Haven't you ever been tempted by anyone since you and Libby got married?"

"Not really."

"Well," Tom told him, "you will be some day. Maybe if you actually looked up from your work once in awhile."

"Tom," Harry prompted, "what happened with B'Elanna and the Bajoran?" He didn't mean to be rude, but if Tom was going to go to the trouble of telling him one of his best friends nearly had an affair, he at least wanted to hear how it turned out.

_  
**USS Enterprise, Chief Engineer's Office, 2384**_

"_Here's the report on the diagnostic you wanted," Stixa declared as he entered her office._

_B'Elanna looked up from her computer. "Thanks," she said, taking the padd from him. She tried to resolve not to find him attractive. He wasn't the first man she'd found handsome or sexy since she and Tom had gotten together; those instincts didn't simply die because she found a mate. She and Tom openly and objectively discussed their attractions, critiquing each other's choices and using them to understand each other better. 'You think her breasts are a good proportion for her body? No way, you're crazy.' That kind of thing. But Stixa was different. Her eyes strayed to his large biceps, threatening to burst the seams of his uniform. This wasn't just an appreciation for his physique; she could tell he was equally attracted to her, and that changed everything into a dangerous possibility. The fact that she'd been hiding it from Tom for so long, she also knew, spelled danger. If it had been an innocent attraction, she would have told him about it already. _

_Then there was his personality. Stixa was a competent engineer, a principled Bajoran who understood her sense of social justice, and whose quiet, somber personality was in stark contrast to Tom's sometimes supercilious nature. _

_Which she loved, she had to remind herself. Which was really just a protective outer layer, under which was a wonderfully big heart and a mixture of little boy wonder and serious intensity. She knew because she'd seen those inner layers. Lived with them. She was one of few people who had. She may have even been the only person. It was an incredible gift Tom had given her, and she didn't want to lose it or hurt him after he'd worked for years to allow himself to show her his vulnerability. _

_And still something inside her stirred when she looked at Stixa's chiseled jaw._

_It wasn't as if she needed a sexual release. She and Tom knew couples whose white-hot passions had been reduced to smoldering embers after years of marriage or separation during missions. Powell, for instance, loved his wife, she knew; he __loved__ her, yet B'Elanna could sense his sexual tension a kilometer away. And Orland and Wehu – their marriage was harmonious, and they worked well together, but it was obvious to the entire Enterprise that they weren't having sex and probably hadn't in quite some time._

_B'Elanna and Tom weren't like that. Whenever things threatened to become dull, there was always an away mission, a new holodeck program, a new position or toy Tom would discover on some space station. There was never a moment when she wasn't aroused by him and wasn't thoroughly satisfied with their lovemaking._

_So why did the tall, dark, handsome subordinate make her knees weak?_

_Stixa was still leaning over her desk, waiting for something. To be dismissed?_

"_Uh, B'Elanna," he said, using correct inflection on the first syllable (which even she'd long since abandoned doing), "how about getting some lunch in my quarters?"_

_B'Elanna put the padd down. Moment of truth._

_The truth was that there wasn't much happening in engineering, and she was hungry. Lunch sounded good. And she'd been in his quarters before. It would be better than eating in public, where people would naturally draw conclusions that something was going on. _

_Oh, right, and sneaking into private quarters won't raise any suspicions._

_The truth was, she wanted to be alone with him. The truth was, he wasn't really inviting her to lunch, and she knew it. _

_The truth was, she didn't really want lunch._

_No, I want to see how well he can resist my strength when I try to wrestle him to the bed – and then I smell his sweat and bear my teeth and – _

_No, no biting. Biting is special. It's for Tom. And this isn't Tom._

_This isn't special._

_B'Elanna knew then what she had to do, and as she made her decision, she felt her desire begin to dissipate. To her surprise. And relief._

"_I don't think that's a good idea," she said slowly. "I think we should just stick to work." She didn't expand on that, and to his credit Stixa didn't ask for an explanation. He simply nodded and left her office._

_Once the doors closed, she placed her palms down on the desk and let out a slow breath. There was still one thing that she needed to do before she could move on completely. __No, not move on.__ They wouldn't just resume course; this would change their heading. __Maybe for the better?__ B'Elanna vaguely recalled a Klingon expression: something about marriages of flowers dying, but marriages of scars getting stronger. She hoped it was true._

_A check of the chronometer told her Tom would still be in flight simulation. Not exactly acceptable, but far better than calling him while he was on the bridge._

"_Torres to Paris."_

"_Go ahead."_

"_Can you report to engineering when you have a minute?"_

"_Personal or professional?"_

_Ah, he's alone.__ "I want to talk about yesterday, Tom."_

"_I'll be there in thirty minutes. Paris out."_

_His voice sounded tense, and it occurred to B'Elanna that she hadn't made it clear to him what her decision was. She hit her com badge again. "Torres to Paris."_

"_Go ahead. Again."_

"_I just wanted to say I'm sorry." She held her breath with anticipation, awaiting his response._

_His voice sounded much less strained as he repeated, "I'll be there soon. Paris out."_

_When at last Tom arrived in engineering, B'Elanna heard the familiar sound of her engineers pausing in their work to greet him. Like her systems designers on the starbase and the engineers on Voyager, the crew on the Enterprise welcomed Tom's presence in engineering as a sign that their chief would be in a better mood and their workload would get a little lighter. B'Elanna took a deep breath and waited for the door to her office to open._

"_Hey," Tom said lightly as he entered._

_B'Elanna rose from her desk and went over to him. "It's over," she declared, "and I'm sorry. I don't know why this happened."_

"_So you've decided." He folded his arms across his chest._

"_I decided that I was being stupid, risking what we have for nothing. I'm sorry I hurt you. I didn't mean to. I hate that more than anything." She put her arms around his waist and was pleased when he pulled her even closer. "I love you."_

"_I love you, too," he said, his body finally relaxing against hers._

"_Can you forgive me?" She looked up, searching his eyes._

"_Yeah," he said, letting out a breath. "Of course I can."_

_B'Elanna rose on tiptoe to kiss him and felt Tom's mouth tentatively press against hers. Then slowly the kiss deepened. Tom's left hand reached for B'Elanna's neck, his thumb grazing her jaw the way it always did. The familiarity of his touch made her smile._

"So the moral of the story," Harry said slowly, processing, "is…" His voice trailed off. Other than relaying something obviously very private about their marriage, he didn't exactly follow Tom's objective.

"That even someone like B'Elanna can be tempted to destroy a marriage," Tom said with total seriousness.

Harry stared at his friend silently. Laughing or smiling would have been hurtful, he knew, but he had to marvel at Tom's complete devotion to his wife. _Someone like B'Elanna? You mean, someone perfect? _

"I see," he said finally. "And what about you? You said you had a story that makes you look bad?"

Tom nodded. "Let's just say I can be an insensitive jerk sometimes."

"I already knew that," Harry reminded him.

Tom frowned. "Do you want to hear the story or not?"

_  
**Earth, San Francisco, Residence of Admiral Own Paris, 2386**_

"_Is that what you're going to wear?" _

_B'Elanna gave an exasperated sigh. "What does it matter? It's not my reunion. I don't see why I have to wear a uniform."_

"_I don't want you to wear a uniform."_

"_But you don't want me to wear this?"_

"_Well, call me a pig," Tom said, drawing up close to her, "but Jack Garrison will be there. And Jack Garrison once stole Lucy Greeley from me. I want Jack Garrison to be jealous."_

_B'Elanna snorted. "So you want to parade me around like some kind of prize?" She pushed him away._

"_Maybe one of your Klingon outfits," he helpfully suggested. "They give you great cleavage."_

"_You're really pushing it, Tom."_

"_Oh, come on, Lucy Greeley's got nothing on you." He tipped his head and raised an eyebrow, and in spite of herself B'Elanna felt that she was beginning to surrender._

_She groaned and went wordlessly back into the guest bedroom. A moment later, she emerged in an outfit she knew Tom would consider more appealing. She marched over to him and extended her arms as if to say, "Better?" Tom took one of her hands and made her twirl around, admiring the 360-degree view with a wide grin. That this woman, small and fierce, stubborn but reluctantly compliant, beautiful and exotic, was his mate – well, he may have earnestly felt a tinge of desire to show up Jack Garrison, but the fact that B'Elanna Torres had claimed him as hers made everything else inconsequential by comparison._

_As she completed her spin, B'Elanna landed against his chest, her hands on his forearms and his on her waist. Seeing him smile, she smiled, too, and kissed him. Then she turned away and headed for the door._

"_One word about Klingon sex drives, and you'll never see this outfit again," she called over her shoulder._

"_Yes, ma'am."_

"_And I'll tell Jack Garrison and Lucy Greeley that I'm actually a hologram."_

_Tom laughed, not doubting that she was telling the truth, and followed her out the door._

_The grounds of Starfleet Academy had never looked better. Since the death of Boothby, the legendary groundskeeper who had more to do with shaping Starfleet's best and brightest than any professor, a group of devoted cadets, alumni, and faculty had been honoring his memory by tending the flowerbeds and trees. As they walked along the flower-trimmed path toward the reception hall, Tom stopped to pick a gardenia, which he handed to B'Elanna. She sniffed it and looked at him with a warm smile._

_Once inside, it only took a moment for Lieutenant Commander Tom Paris to be spotted by his former classmates. A woman who looked nowhere near Tom's age caught his eyes and quickly navigated through the crowd to him._

"_Tom Paris!" she declared, giving him an affectionate kiss on the cheek and hug._

_B'Elanna watched, her arms crossed, her lips pursed. The petite brunette was attractive, with a command uniform and three full pips. Tom awkwardly accepted the kiss. He patted the woman's back and then righted his spine to its full eight centimeters above her. As he did, he bumped B'Elanna's elbow and seemed to remember she was there._

"_Oh, this is my wife, B'Elanna," he said hastily, circling an arm around her waist as if to remind himself which woman he was with._

_B'Elanna extended a hand. "Commander B'Elanna Torres," she corrected. "And you are…?"_

_Tom snapped to attention. "Oh, this is Susie. Susie Crabtree. You look great," he said to the woman._

_Crabtree shook B'Elanna's hand, telling her, "It's Commander Crabtree these days, actually. The Juno." Her eyes were still firmly fixed on Tom. "And where are you stationed these days…" She fingered his pips. "Commander?"_

"_The Enterprise, actually," Tom said with his share of pride. _

"_Wow, you must be top notch."_

"_Actually, I was just part of the package," he admitted. "B'Elanna was offered chief engineer, and she convinced them to take me as well."_

_That was a little more chivalrous than B'Elanna had expected, given his current state of fluster. It was also not entirely true, but under the circumstances she wasn't going to correct him._

"_The Enterprise, huh?" Crabtree mused. " We just got a transfer from the Enterprise. Helmsman. Ensign Cal Verde."_

"_How's his performance? I trained him straight from the Academy."_

"_Top notch," Crabtree said, her eyes penetrating Tom's. "All thanks to you, no doubt."_

"_No doubt," B'Elanna interrupted. "I'm going to get a drink, if you'll excuse me."_

_Tom opened his mouth to say something, but she was already gone. He turned back to Susie Crabtree a little sheepishly. "So, Sus, long time, no see."_

"_Married?" she said with disbelief. "To a Klingon?"_

"_Married," he reiterated seriously._

_Susie took a drink of something Tom hadn't realized she was holding. It made him parched – and eager to loosen up with a drink of his own. He scanned the room, wondering when B'Elanna would be back and if she'd bring him something, too. He generally liked talking to old friends, but he knew B'Elanna well enough to know that Susie's little display of affection had jeopardized his chances of a bigger display of affection later that night._

"_What about you, Sus? Married?"_

"_Career officer," she reported. "Kids?"_

_Tom nodded. They were in safe territory now – one of his favorite subjects even – and B'Elanna was heading toward them. In her great mercy, she was bringing a drink for him, too._

"_Actually, we have two daughters," he said, watching her cut through the crowd. "Miral just turned eight, and L'Naan is starting school this year."_

"_Congratulations. I'll bet they're beautiful." The compliment seemed to be aimed at both Tom and B'Elanna equally, so he accepted it. "God, Tom, it's been a long time. I can't believe how much you've changed."_

_Tom shook his head. "Me either." Out of the corner of his eye, he saw B'Elanna stop in front of another small brunette and begin talking. "Uh, Sus, if you'll excuse me." He strode across the room as quickly as possible, taking full advantage of his long legs._

_The woman looked older than Tom remembered, but not so different that B'Elanna wouldn't have recognized her. She saw Tom come up behind the half-Klingon who had readily introduced herself, and she looked up at him with a smile. "Tom Paris."_

"_Alice Battisti," he pronounced. "How are you?"_

"_I'm good," she said. "B'Elanna just introduced herself to me. I would have bet money you'd stay single forever."_

_And just how exactly did B'Elanna explain that she knew who you were in the first place?__ Tom wondered. "Good, then we can skip the formal introductions." He reached around B'Elanna to take one of the drinks from her hand and enjoyed a long gulp. Ktarian beer, not a bad choice if she wanted to keep him on his toes all evening. "So, Alice, been doing anything interesting lately?"_

"_I've resigned from Starfleet," she said, gesturing at the blue civilian jumpsuit she was wearing. "I'm a full-time holonovelist now."_

"_Really?" Tom couldn't help but be intrigued._

"_What sort of holonovels?" B'Elanna asked._

"_Mostly historical," she told them. "I'm working on a program right now that lets you be one of the astronauts on the first moon landing in 1969."_

_Tom thought he saw B'Elanna's grip on her glass tighten just a little. He had to admit that he was more than amused that his former fantasy girl was now doing his fantasy job. "That sounds really great," he heard himself saying. "Maybe you'll let me try it out?"_

"_Are you interested in holoprogramming?"_

_B'Elanna stopped paying attention as the two old acquaintances began to talk about history together. She knew she was going to do something cheap and dirty – something utterly beneath her – but she couldn't help it. She reached her free hand behind her and touched Tom's stomach. Then she slowly slid her hand downward until she heard the break in his voice as he continued the conversation. His free hand stealthily came up and removed hers as he carried on with Alice, who was completely unaware._

"Okay," Harry said, "so B'Elanna met the real Alice. So what? That wasn't exactly your fault."

"No," Tom said, "but I didn't have to act like a jerk about it. Harry, I practically ignored B'Elanna the whole evening to talk about history with an ex-girlfriend. That's not exactly good behavior."

"What did B'Elanna have to say about it?"

"Nothing."

"Really?"

Tom shook his head. "No, Harry, nothing. As in, she wouldn't speak to me afterward."

_  
Several hours later, they were back at Tom's parents' house. Although they'd made a show for the other reunion attendees, it was clear to both of them that they weren't on good terms. And, coincidentally, the other reunion attendees for whom they'd performed as happy husband and wife hadn't included Jack Garrison or Lucy Greeley._

_It was apparent to Owen Paris the minute they walked in that something was wrong. _

_L'Naan was asleep in his lap, her head on his chest, arms and legs wrapped around him. B'Elanna crept quietly over to him and mouthed a "hi" as she gently peeled L'Naan off him. She carried her into the bedroom the two girls were sharing. She then placed her on the bed and pulled the covers around her, taking a moment to stroke her cheek lovingly. She looked over at Miral, who had already kicked off all her blankets, and smiled._

_When she reemerged into the living room, Owen was still sitting in the armchair, and Tom was standing in the middle of the floor with his arms limp at his sides. "Alice," he was saying. "Can you believe it?"_

"_The girl you named a ship after? How embarrassing," his father sympathized. He looked at B'Elanna. "Did you get a chance to talk to her?"_

"_Are you kidding? I found her and introduced myself before Tom had a chance. But did I tell her that Tom was still so infatuated with her after all those years that he named a ship after her? A ship that tried to kill me because it was jealous? No, I didn't tell her that." B'Elanna's voice was oozing with sarcasm. She plopped onto the sofa. "I told her I reviewed the class profiles in the database, and that Tom had mentioned she was one of his old friends." _

"_In other words," the admiral said, "you played the good wife."_

"_And considering your little display with Susie Crabtree," B'Elanna said to Tom, "it was more than you deserved."_

"_Crabtree? How do I know that name?"_

"_First officer of the Juno," Tom told his father. He decided to take his chances by sitting next to his wife on the sofa. He doubted she'd physically assault him in front of his father. _

"_Tom's girlfriend," B'Elanna corrected. Although her voice sounded sore, she didn't flinch when he sat down._

"_Oh, your first year at the Academy, right? She broke up with you. You were a wreck."_

"_I don't know whether to be flattered or embarrassed that you remember, Dad." _

_But his father was on roll. "Come to think of it, that Alice girl broke your heart, too, didn't she?" He laughed. "You weren't very good with women when you were in school."_

_B'Elanna looked gloriously at Tom, relishing the torment._

_He did the calculations quickly in his head and realized that retreat was his best option. "Well, I'm going to bed." He patted B'Elanna's knee. "We have a long day tomorrow. I invited Alice to dinner. Good night, Dad. Thanks for baby-sitting."_

_He was gone from the room before B'Elanna had a chance to react._

The two men looked up as B'Elanna entered the tent. Realizing she had interrupted something, she stopped unzipping her parka and froze mid-stoop with a knowing, "Oh."

Tom patted the space next to him on the sleeping bag. "Come here," he said. "I was just talking to Harry about my class reunion that one time."

"Which time?" She decided it was okay to intrude and continued to remove her parka. She tossed it in a corner of the tent.

"_That_ time," Tom said, patting the seat next to him again.

B'Elanna crawled over to him. She looked at Harry, his face grim and tenser than she'd realized before, and looked back to Tom. "I see," she said slowly. "Did you also tell him about Stixa?"

Tom nodded, and she nodded her approval at his decision to do so.

Harry spoke up then, his good nature outshining his marital woes. "B'Elanna, I didn't mean to pry into your –"

"Harry," she interrupted curtly, "you've heard our stories. Do you want to tell us about what's going on with you and Libby?"

Harry looked between his friends for a moment and sighed. He knew Libby would be upset if she found out he was discussing their private life, but he also knew they hadn't been able to fix their problems on their own. Maybe, he decided, getting some outside advice would help.

_  
**Earth, San Francisco, Starfleet Medical, 2389**_

"_What do you mean there's nothing else you can do?" Harry demanded angrily._

_The doctor closed the medical tricorder and said in a patient, sympathetic voice, "I'm very sorry. Sometimes these things happen."_

"'_These things happen'? You're supposed to have the most advanced medical technology in the Federation!"_

"_We do," the doctor said with less sympathy, "and we did everything we could. We are still subject to the body's natural tendencies."_

"_I can't believe this!" Harry's hands flew to his hips._

_Before he could protest further, the doctor grabbed his elbow and yanked him away from the biobed. Her voice dropped a few decibels but was full of authority as she said, "You are not helping the situation, Mr. Kim. Your wife is upset and confused and in pain, and she needs you to be strong for her. There is nothing more we can do. Nothing. I suggest you stop making the situation worse and try to be supportive as she deals with this trauma. Do you understand?"_

_Harry looked into the woman's eyes. "I understand," he said finally. "But let's get one thing straight: I outrank you, so don't ever talk to me that way again."_

_He returned to Libby's side and took her hand. As he looked at Libby's puffy, swollen eyes, he realized the doctor was right. She needed his comfort, not his vehemence at their helplessness. "Oh, Libs," he whispered as tears came to his own eyes._

_The waver in his voice was enough to make her start crying all over again. She sat up and let him hold her as she sobbed.  
_

"Oh, Harry," B'Elanna said tenderly, "that must have been awful."

"Why didn't you tell us?" Tom asked in an equally soft voice.

"It was right about the time you moved back," Harry explained. "Libby didn't want anyone to know she was pregnant in case something went wrong, and when it happened, we didn't want to spoil your homecoming."

"I thought you'd given up on trying to have children," B'Elanna said, rubbing his arm gently.

Harry nodded. "We had. It was a wonderful surprise, but when she lost the baby, that was the final straw."

"What happened?"

"_Libby, it's been three days. Are you going to talk to me?"_

_Libby continued working on her computer, ignoring him._

"_Libby? Hello?"_

_She clenched her eyes shut and hoped he would disappear. She felt her shoulders involuntarily rise with tension. When Harry came up behind her, intent on getting some kind of response, it was all she could do to keep from shuddering. She wasn't certain when his touch had begun to repulse her. _

_Losing a child she had waited her years to have and then hadn't even gotten a chance to meet was without a doubt the worst thing she'd ever lived through. She had spent too many years debating whether or not to keep trying to conceive. She felt too old to be a mother, and yet it had happened. When she found out she was pregnant, all the questions about right and wrong disappeared immediately. It was right; it was perfect; it was everything she always wanted. And then swiftly, cruelly, it was taken away from her, causing her to reevaluate things._

_She'd realized she was fed up of life with Harry. Nothing had turned out the way she had wanted. They didn't have kids. He worked fourteen hours a day, neglecting her for his beloved Starfleet. They had drifted apart. Her mother had died. She hated her job. Everything was wrong, and she wanted it all to change._

_And it had to start with Harry._

_As his hands came to rest on her shoulders, she couldn't help herself but jerked around in the chair and snapped at him. "Why do you always have to hang all over me?"_

_If she didn't hear the edge in her own voice, it was clear from the pained look in Harry's eyes. He backed slowly away from her and hastily left the room._

"That was seven months ago," Harry reported. "We haven't been sleeping in the same room since then. We're barely speaking. I'm surprised she hasn't asked for a divorce yet."

"Maybe it's a phase," B'Elanna said gently. "Maybe she just needs some time."

Harry shook his head. "No, it was a long time coming. I don't see how we can ever get out of this."

"Have you talked to her about it?"

He shook his head again, and B'Elanna lost her patience. "Harry, you have to talk to her."

"She doesn't want to talk."

"It doesn't matter. Marriage isn't easy. You don't just pledge eternal love and then call it a day. You have to wake up every day and make that choice again. And some days you don't want to."

"This is supposed to be helping?"

"If you'd be quiet and let me finish." She smiled gently at him as he held up his hands in surrender. "On those days when you doubt whether or not you should keep going – together – you make a choice: work through your problems – together – or leave. Every time we worked through our problems," she said with a sideways glance at Tom, "we emerged stronger." She knew Tom was looking at her with a dopey expression, so she focused her attention on Harry, wondering how it was that Tom had been equipped with an emotional mushy gene she didn't have.

Harry gave a slow nod of understanding, the tension in his face replaced with contemplation. His eyes met hers. "Thanks, B'Elanna."

"What about me?" Tom pouted.

"I'm going to go find Libby. I guess I should get her to talk." He scrambled up and out of their tent.

As she watched him go, B'Elanna commented, "I can't imagine what it must feel like to lose a baby." Tom didn't answer, so she turned to look at him.

He was gazing absently at the opening to the tent, where Harry had just exited.

"Tom?"

Finally he turned to look at her. "We're so lucky," he said quietly. She nodded.


	7. Chapter 7

_Synopsis: Set during various periods of time post-"Endgame." Canon-consistent (though, as it deals with time travel, may not seem so – keep reading, and it'll make sense). In Part One, Miral Paris and Andrew Kim (Harry's son) entered Starfleet Academy and began dating, to the chagrin of their parents. After three years together, Miral and Andrew headed off for summer internships at different ends of the quadrant and found themselves breaking up. The beginning of their last year at the Academy brought about a reconciliation. Faced with the end of their tenure as cadets and the possibility that their first duty assignments would once again scatter them around the galaxy, they became engaged. Tom and B'Elanna welcomed friends and family to their San Francisco home to celebrate Miral and Andrew's graduation and engagement, but the festivities were interrupted when Q2 appeared, announcing, to everyone's confusion, that he was the reason Andrew existed._

_Part Two begins in the past, exploring what happened between "Endgame" and Part One._

* * *

**Chapter 7: Earth, San Francisco, Kim Family Residence, 2393**

"What are you doing here?" Libby asked, wide-eyed. Before he could answer, she threw her arms around him, and they stumbled into the apartment. Her mouth quickly found his, and she jumped up, wrapping her legs around him. Harry held her tightly as he hastened to the bed.

"I want to hear all about your adventure."

"Later," he said, his tongue still halfway in his mouth.

She made love to him with a kind of rapture Harry hadn't seen in her in a while, and when they were both satisfied and sweaty, Libby fell into an exhausted sleep. Harry rested his head on the pillow, looking at the tranquil expression on her face as he gently stroked her temple with his hand.

_She looks so young_.

When Libby was still asleep an hour later, Harry climbed out of bed and went over to the computer console. He activated it and tried to check his incoming messages. But the console didn't register him as an authorized user.

_Funny,_ he thought. _I'm gone for two days, and she deletes me?_

"I get the hint," he said aloud, though she was still asleep. "I won't volunteer next time there's a mission."

He input his personal data, including his Starfleet ID, but the computer beeped back at him. His codes were locked out; his ID number came back as invalid.

Invalid. Not recognized by Starfleet Headquarters.

This was beyond the scope of Libby's practical jokes.

Good thing Harry was the resident computer whiz. He tried a few overrides, unsuccessfully, and then began to look for a system malfunction. He switched the interface from its user-friendly mode to look at the code, long columns of numbers signifying the algorithms that operated the console's programming and its all-important connection to outside communications. But there was nothing unusual.

_Time to start eliminating blips function by function_, he thought. He activated the vocal interface.

"Computer, what is the primary function of this work station?"

"This work station receives and transmits communications."

"Good answer, computer. And what is the storage capacity of this work station?"

"Forty-four point seven gigaquads."

Harry frowned. The last time Libby had a birthday, the number of messages received simultaneously from her family had nearly overloaded the terminal, so he had increased the memory core. Why the computer now reported a return to its previous capacity was unclear. The malfunction was clearly with the programming itself, not the external communications abilities. Harry reset the system.

"Computer, what is the stardate?"

"Stardate 54642."

"Repeat."

"Stardate 54642."

"No, it's not. Reset all systems for stardate 71248."

The computer beeped its compliance.

"Run a level-one diagnostic on internal processors and report any anomalies."

This would take a moment. Harry pushed back from the desk and put his hands behind his head. But the movement made him antsy, and he arched his back over the chair to stretch his spine. Shivering a little in the open air, he went to the closet to get something warm to put on.

When the closet lights came on, Harry instinctively reached for his side, where his green bathrobe always hung on a hook. Always, that is, after Libby patiently and dutifully picked it up off the bathroom floor every morning.

But, apparently, not two days ago when he'd left for the communications array at the edge of the Sol system.

In fact, all of his clothing had been removed. The entire closet consisted of Libby's clothes and shoes only. Harry took her pink robe and tied it around himself as best he could before padding back to the desk.

Before he sat down, his eyes fell upon the silver frame next to the computer. He hadn't paid attention before; the frame had always been there and begged no special attention. Now Harry picked it up slowly, turning it over in hands. The picture that had been in the frame for many years – a picture of Miral and L'Naan Paris, grinning wildly as they rolled in a grassy field – was not there. The picture in the frame was of Libby graduating from university.

Harry's eyes narrowed as he set the picture back down. That image of the Parises had been taken when they were all on a camping trip on Tau Ceti III when the girls were little. Through great fortune all three Starfleet officers had been able to secure shore leave at the same time. That alone made the trip worth remembering. It had also been the first weekend that B'Elanna and Libby had really bonded, after B'Elanna had gotten injured while they were lost in the woods. Libby had proven her worth by finding their way back to camp and carrying B'Elanna the whole way. It was also during that trip that Harry and Libby had decided to stop trying to have children (after too many unsuccessful attempts) and to focus instead on enjoying their nephews and nieces, including Miral and L'Naan. The morning after that decision, Harry and Tom were teaching the girls the old war game Capture the Flag when they all collided in the middle of a field and collapsed in hysterics. B'Elanna had heard the laughter and had taken the image, which she later gave to Harry. It was one of his fondest memories of the girls – a day when he released his own dream of being a father but discovered in return how much he could enjoy the small wonders of childhood with Miral and L'Naan Paris. Whom he loved fiercely. As did Libby.

There was no way she'd take that image out of the frame. It was too significant, too symbolic to them. Even after she'd gotten pregnant and miscarried, she'd reminded him of the picture and what it represented.

The image, the missing clothes, the stardate. Harry had a sinking feeling in his stomach.

Serving on deep-space missions, a Starfleet officer is prepared for anything and quite often encounters everything. Harry's twenty-plus years in the Fleet had given him the chance to fight the Borg, come back from the dead on several occasions, and encounter more spatial anomalies than most citizens even knew existed. As Admiral Janeway had once told him, "weird is part of the job."

All those encounters and strange missions had taught Harry that everything was possible, no matter how unlikely. As Sherlock Holmes said, "When you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth." Harry had learned that in Starfleet the more improbable – the more ridiculous – an idea seemed, the more likely it was to be true.

"_What are you doing here?"_

"_I want to hear all about your adventure."_

And right now all signs were pointing to one disturbingly improbable conclusion.

Libby stirred in bed, and Harry put the frame down and walked over to her. He sat down on the edge of the bed beside her as she murmured softly and then opened her eyes. She looked startled for a moment, then shook her head very slowly as her eyes filled with tears. "So it's true," she said quietly. "You're back."

Harry licked his lips in thought. Laying one hand on her cheek, he looked into her brown eyes and said equally softly, "I need you to tell me the date. In Earth years."

"The date? Have you been gone that long?" She sat up, now smiling. "When did you get here? Why didn't they tell us?"

"I promise I'll answer all your questions, but I have to know the year."

"2377."

One of the things that happens to someone who accepts that the likelihood of the improbable is that news intended to shock often doesn't. Harry merely bit his lip, nodding, realizing that he didn't really need her to confirm his earlier suspicions. He'd known the answer she was going to give before she even said it.

He knew now why she looked so young. Why she'd made love to him in a way that was at once familiar and not, why his two favorite nieces had disappeared from the picture frame, why his clothes were gone, and why – above all else – his Starfleet ID wasn't working at a computer terminal in San Francisco, the holy land of Starfleet.

"_What are you doing here?"_

Because Harry Kim was still lost in the Delta Quadrant.

* * *

**Residence of Libby Lipschitz, 2377**

"I don't understand how this happened."

Harry sat on the edge of the bed, elbows on his knees, watching as Libby paced back and forth in front of him.

"Neither do I, Lib," he admitted. "I've just violated about ten protocols and completely altered the timeline." Harry sighed and thought for a moment about the sequence of events that had gotten him to this place. "I was returning in the shuttle, and I requested clearance for landing. It doesn't make sense. If I'm still in the Delta Quadrant, who gave me permission to land? My shuttle class doesn't even exist yet. It has a transwarp signature. That should have raised more than a few flags. I wasn't even wearing the right uniform."

"What are you going to do? Are you going to go to Starfleet Command?"

Harry shook his head slowly as he thought through the possibilities. "No, that would just further complicate the timeline." He smiled at the irony of his situation. "Libs, I wish I could tell you something, but I can't."

"What?"

"Never mind. Temporal Prime Directive." _We already did this once before. I came back to you while I was still in the Delta Quadrant, but I had to go back. Why do we keep getting second chances and then having them get taken away from us? _

The Starfleet officer in him knew it wasn't a productive line of questioning. Fact: he was in the wrong year. Fact: he needed to return to his time. Period. Before going back had meant leaving the comfort of San Francisco for the wilds of the Delta Quadrant. At least this time he'd be coming back here, to her.

"I have to figure out how to get back," he told her with resolve. "If I don't, the timeline will be altered, and everything I know about my past – your future – will be in jeopardy."

She bit her lip. "I missed you every day for two years until they declared you dead," she told him soberly.

"I know," Harry said kindly. "You told me when Voyager came home."

"And then I mourned you for over a year until your parents told me you were alive in the Delta Quadrant."

"I know," he said with more softness. "But then you met Tarik and after that Josh."

Her eyes widened a little in surprise. "I'm dating someone named Josh," she admitted.

He nodded. "You told me all about him after Voyager came back." It killed him to have to talk about her lovers with her, but he knew their mutual moving on had been necessary for their personal growth and eventual reunion.

Libby stopped pacing and knelt down, taking his hands in her own. "I would rather have you _now_ than let you go back for something that we might have in _fifteen years_. I can't keep losing you, Harry."

Harry cupped her cheek. "You won't remember," he explained gently. "None of this will have happened. But if I don't go, we might never have anything."

"Are we happy in your time?"

"Very," he reassured her. It wasn't at all true; they'd contemplated divorce on more than one occasion, and they still didn't have any of the children they desired. His Libby had faced depression for two years, and only recently had they started to recover together as a couple. The thought of having a different life was tempting, but Harry knew it wasn't a real possibility. There were too many other variables that couldn't be accounted for. "I have to go back to my time. The question is: how do I do that?"

Libby sat beside him and slowly rubbed his leg while she thought.

Ignoring the arousal he felt at her touch, Harry concentrated on the spark of an idea that was forming. "Libby," he began, his eyes narrowing as he thought, "what do you know about the Borg?"

"The Borg?" she gasped in surprise.

_Of course, she doesn't know much about them._ He'd fought the Borg so many times that while the threat of assimilation remained real, warding it off had become intuitive – shields and phasers on rotating frequency, a few modified nanoprobes to disrupt the hive mind, a carefully reprogrammed photon torpedo fired at a cube.

_Disrupting the hive mind. Disrupting the interlink. With its temporal frequency._

The plan was starting to come together.

But this was before Kathryn Janeway became a legend as the woman who took down the Borg and before Voyager returned from the Delta Quadrant with its plethora of gathered information and two former drones on board. Harry suspected that what was known about the Borg – and, more importantly, any salvaged Borg components – would be held under Starfleet's tightest security.

If the plan was going to work, he'd need access to everything Voyager had on the Borg – he'd need access to Voyager. And in 2377 there was only one way to get access to Voyager: Pathfinder.

"Libby," he said, rising suddenly, "I need some civilian clothing." He crossed the room to the computer. "Can you log on for me? I need to send a message."

"To whom?" she wanted to know as she joined him at the desk. She didn't wait for an answer; she logged in and stepped aside.

"To a lieutenant I know at Starfleet Communications Research," Harry explained as he sat down and began to compose the message.

"But you just said you didn't want to involve Starfleet."

"I know," Harry replied, only half-listening to her as he wrote, "but if I'm right about Reg Barclay, he'll help me without telling anyone." He fired off the message and rose abruptly. "Clothing?"

Libby pointed to the replicator, jaw hanging slightly open, uncertain what this Harry Kim had in store.


	8. Chapter 8

_**Less mush – more action!**_

_When we last ended, Harry Kim had just realized he was stuck sixteen years in the past. And was seeking Reg Barclay's help to move forward.  
_

* * *

**Chapter 8: Earth, San Francisco, Resto Presidio, 2377**

"I need your help," Harry said as he approached Barclay's table. He had no time to stand on formalities. "I need to get into this building." He slid a data padd across the table, letting Barclay read what he planned to do so that no one at the surrounding tables would overhear them.

"Oh, gee, Ensign, I don't know," Barclay began. "Every time I get involved with Voyager, I get in trouble with Commander Harkins."

"It's 'Commander' now," Harry told him tersely. "I outrank you, and I'm giving you an order." It was a lousy method of reasoning, to use his rank from the future, but Harry was desperate. He couldn't risk violating the timeline any further by having to ask someone else for help. He didn't even know whom else he could ask other than Reg.

"Maybe you should get in touch with Admiral Paris or someone from Starfleet Command?"

"Admiral Paris? Do_ not _tell Admiral Paris about this," Harry ordered. "Above all else. The last thing I need is to implicate more people in this." _Especially Tom's dad._

"But, Harry – can I call you Harry? – maybe if we can figure out how you got here, we can use that information to get Voyager home. It's possible you encountered a subspace rift."

The thought of bringing Voyager home did sound appealing, but Harry knew it was out of the question. What Barclay couldn't have known was that the ship was nearing the end of its odyssey, and that they'd only be shaving off a few months off its seven-year trek. Those months, however, had been critical in crippling the Borg. Bringing the ship back early would also mean changing the lives of one hundred forty people Harry knew and loved, and though Admiral Janeway might have made that decision for the crew once, Harry didn't think it was his place to decide that they would get a different fate.

"Listen to me," Harry whispered, "stop talking about Voyager right now. And don't say 'subspace rift' in public again."

"But getting Voy – those people home has been our mission for three years."

"Reg," Harry assured him, "we get home. I'm living proof. We lost a few lives between now and then." His mind flashed briefly to Joe Carey and the uncomfortable meeting he'd had with Carey's wife and nearly grown children when Voyager returned. "But there were also some really important things that happened – things I can't talk about." He looked around the outdoor café to ensure no one was eavesdropping on their conversation. "I'll handle getting the components. Just get me into Pathfinder so I can contact the ship, okay?"

Barclay hesitated, still uncertain of the role he wanted to play in their time-travel drama. "Perhaps you could just use Kirk's slingshot effect?"

Harry frowned. "You know as well as I do that that won't work today. The improvements to our structural integrity fields, not to mention inertial damper failsafes – besides, I'd need to know his exact velocity and trajectory, and that's all under tight security at Command."

"And Borg components aren't?" Barclay nearly squeaked. Harry quickly shushed him, and they both glanced around the café in paranoia.

Harry leaned forward, halfway across the table, and dropped his voice. "My shuttle already has a transwarp coil. How hard could this be?"

Barclay didn't answer, but Harry noticed he was sweating even though it was a cold, dreary San Francisco day.

"Look, Reg, that hologram you sent to Voyager – that was you, right?" If obeying a direct order wouldn't motivate Barclay, Harry thought, maybe a little ego-stroking would. "He was really something, Reg. The life of the party. And smart. Very smart. He could have easily pulled this off – and he would have, too, for the sake of his friends."

"You – you think of me as a friend?"

Harry nodded, ready to move in for the kill. He didn't typically resort to emotional manipulation, but this wasn't a typical situation. "You've become a part of the Voyager family in my time, Reg. Many of us consider you our friend. All I want to do is make certain those events still happen."

Barclay nodded his willingness to participate.

* * *

**Starfleet Headquarters**

With Barclay's help, Harry had procured the uniform of the time, which was neither the uniform he currently wore nor the uniform he'd worn at that time on Voyager. It was a hideously tight, thick synthetic wool jumpsuit with a yellow turtleneck that restricted movement, and Harry was grateful Starfleet in his time had returned to simple one-piece suits. He'd made one slight modification to the gray monstrosity, though, which he felt was deserved, given that he currently held the rank of commander: he'd made himself a lieutenant. When Barclay had raised an eyebrow at his request for two pips, he'd said only, "Give me a break. I'm not bucking for captain. But no one's going to believe someone with this much gray hair hasn't made lieutenant yet." He felt a slight victory at the promotion, knowing that his Delta Quadrant counterpart was still traveling the hard road of ensignhood after seven long years.

Thanks to the new uniform, Harry strolled easily across the grounds of Starfleet Command. He nodded to a few passing officers as he entered the building he knew contained the locked and heavily guarded research on the Borg.

When no one was looking, he stepped into a turbolift and descended into the underground storage facility. The turbolift doors slid open, and Harry was faced with the tightly sealed doors of the facility. As there were probably several security monitors recording his turbolift jaunt and watching him now in position at the doors, Harry knew he needed to quickly get in and get out. He decided to take a chance at guessing the security code – he'd likely only have one chance before he tripped alarms and a flock of armed guards came after him.

_What code? What code? Think!_ It popped into his mind. He keyed the digits 1-7-0-1 on the manual keypad.

"Verify identity," the computer told him before it would release the doors.

_Okay, now what? _He cleared his throat. Deepening his voice and affecting a slight accent, he said, "Identify Picard, Jean-Luc."

"Identity confirmed." The doors hissed open.

_That shouldn't have actually worked_, he thought, taking a cautious step into the room. But he didn't have time to worry. He jogged to the nearest display console and called up the roster of stored items. The temporal transmitter he needed was in storage container 147-beta. Harry quickly located the container, thanking Starfleet for its organizational skills, and pulled the transmitter out. He carefully placed it in the empty case he'd brought and raced back out the doors.

As the turbolift ascended to the ground level, Harry's heart was racing. He anticipated being stopped at any moment. To his surprise, though, the doors to the lift opened on a relatively empty corridor. He speed-walked out of the building and toward the nearest ground transport.

* * *

**Residence of Libby Lipschitz**

He hadn't noticed the first time he'd arrived at the apartment, but there were plenty of telltale signs that it was not his home. The furniture was different, and the décor was pure Libby. After they were married, they had decided to remain in the apartment – it had been in her family for years, it had plenty of room, and it was in a convenient location for both of them to get to work. Over the years, though, Harry had infused it with more and more of his personality.

One thing that hadn't changed was the access code on the front door. It was the same sequence of four numbers that Libby used for everything, and they'd never thought there was a need to change it. As he let himself inside the apartment now, Harry was grateful for that.

He entered slowly, feeling like a slight intruder, and called out to see if she was home.

"Hey," she answered, emerging from their – her – bedroom. "I cancelled work today in case you needed my help."

_That aspect of her personality hasn't changed._

Harry held up the case. "I got the transmitter," he confessed. He knew he should have just steered clear of her home and refused to tell her anything about his plan, but it felt good to have a loyal co-conspirator. Besides, he'd already slept with her – how much worse could it be to tell her about technology she didn't understand?

"What's the next part of the plan?"

"I have to meet Reg Barclay back at the communications lab where he works, but we have to wait an hour until his commanding officer goes home for the day and for the scheduled time to contact Voyager."

"In that case you should eat while you have some time. Are you hungry?" she asked.

_Okay, that hasn't changed either._

Harry nodded and followed her into the kitchen. One thing he had conveniently forgotten was that young Libby had been a terrible cook. She couldn't even program a decent recipe into a food replicator. It had taken years of being married before she'd improved her skills enough that Harry looked forward to her home cooking.

Libby set something brown and spongy in front of him, and for a moment Harry realized that neither he nor his Delta Quadrant counterpart, who would be subject to Neelix's more inventive concoctions, was having much luck in the food department that day.

"Eat," she commanded.

Harry hesitantly slid the fork into the spongy mess and raised a bite to his lips. It didn't smell as bad as it looked. He put the fork into his mouth. It tasted as it bad as it looked, though. He wished he'd lingered at the Resto Presidio long enough to have lunch. He forced a slight smile.

"It's weird having my former boyfriend who's now fifteen years older reappear out of nowhere," she said. "How did you even know where to find me?"

"I can't answer that," he said, setting the fork down on the plate.

"Temporal Prime Directive?" she guessed. He nodded. "Hey, you're not eating. Isn't it good? Should I get you something else?"

Harry looked at her face for a moment, seeing the real concern in her eyes. Even though he was older and not really her Harry, she was so eager to please him – too eager in fact. His Libby would have just admonished him for being picky. In that moment he missed her.

"I'm sorry about last night," Harry said as delicately as he could.

Her eyes drifted off his and toward the kitchen counter. "It's okay," she said unconvincingly. "We were both responsible."

"I should have realized something was wrong when I saw you, but –"

"No, I should have, too, Harry," she said. "You look a lot older."

Harry set his jaw slightly. It was the second reference to his age, and he was getting a little annoyed. "And you look a lot younger," he said simply.

"Are you trying to tell me I'm not going to age well?"

He smiled grimly. "I wouldn't dare."

"Of course not," she said with equal sarcasm. "Temporal Prime Directive."

_Well, she's as easy to piss off as Libby._

Wordlessly she took the plate away from him and threw it into the recycler. She crossed her arms over her chest. "I should have realized you weren't the real Harry when you finished so quickly. I just thought maybe because you were lost in space, you hadn't been with anyone in awhile."

_Finished so quickly? Okay, now she's fighting dirty._ He contemplated telling her exactly how long it took him to get over her after Voyager was lost, but spiteful wasn't exactly how he wanted to be remembered. Besides that, his Delta Quadrant dalliances had all been unqualified disasters in one way or another, and they would make him look foolish more than they would hurt her.

They stared each other down for a moment.

"I should probably get out of this uniform," he said. "Will you recycle it for me?" She nodded. "And, Libby, you can't ever tell anyone about this, you know that, right?"

"Of course," she said earnestly, and he believed her. Whether or not she liked him, she would be discreet.

Harry slid off the kitchen stool and went toward the bathroom to change back into civilian clothing. He couldn't wear a uniform at Pathfinder, for unlike the general grounds he'd sneaked onto earlier, Pathfinder was only modestly staffed. The team would immediately recognize and question an outsider.

When Harry emerged from the bathroom, he thanked Libby again for her help and prepared to leave. This time, she didn't try to convince him to stay, and Harry knew it wasn't because she understood Starfleet duty or the finer points of temporal mechanics. It was because they were mismatched. He wasn't what she wanted when she imagined Harry Kim's homecoming, and she wasn't the wonderfully complex, mature person his wife was. Although he and Libby had had a rough past few years, Harry was suddenly incredibly eager to get back to her.

* * *

**Starfleet Communications Research Center**

Harry met Lieutenant Barclay in the lobby of the communications research building precisely two minutes ahead of schedule. Barclay said nothing to him but turned on his heel and led Harry to the entrance to the Pathfinder lab.

"What are you going to say to explain my presence?" Harry asked as he followed.

"Pathfinder has visitors all the time," Barclay said over his shoulder. "Well, school groups, anyway. I'll tell them you're a teacher contemplating a visit."

Once inside Pathfinder, they went to a secluded alcove, where Barclay patched into the communications system that interfaced with the MIDAS Array. Part of Harry felt a little guilty that whoever on Voyager was scheduled for com time with their family that day was going to be preempted, but his need for help from Seven of Nine had to take priority. _It's for the greater good_, he reminded himself for the hundredth time that day. _They'll be home with their families in a few months anyway._

Barclay looked over his shoulder to make sure no one was watching a little too dramatically for Harry's taste and then tapped into the MIDAS Array.

"Who's scheduled for today?" Harry asked. _Please don't let it be Tuvok. If it's Tuvok, this is all over._ The security chief's suspicions would be aroused upon being informed that his contact with his family was being superseded by Starfleet, and he would likely verify with Captain Janeway that she had, in fact, received some kind of priority or classified message from Command. Captain Janeway would, of course, tell him she hadn't, and then Seven would be put in an awkward position of explaining what had happened – perhaps even implicating Barclay and Pathfinder. The whole thing would lead to various friends getting in trouble, if not causing a huge temporal headache.

Barclay consulted the schedule that Neelix sent him each week. "Crewman Mortimer Harran," he reported. He looked at Harry to gauge his response.

_Thank god. _Harran was a loner. He'd grumble that the deviation from the schedule was further demonstration of Starfleet's inefficiency and inconsiderateness, but quite likely no one would pay any heed. And there was no way he'd take his complaint to the captain. Harry grinned broadly. "Reg, this might actually work."


	9. Chapter 9

_When we last ended, Harry Kim had traveled back in time sixteen years but had recruited Reg Barclay to help him out. Armed with stolen Borg technology, Harry went to Pathfinder to ask an old friend for some help making the leap into the future.  
_

* * *

**Chapter 9: Delta Quadrant, USS Voyager, Astrometrics Lab, 2377**

As the console in front of her beeped, Seven of Nine knew without checking the message that it signaled time to link with the MIDAS Array. Knowing the importance her collective placed on their communication with Earth, it was a part of her daily routine that never deviated from schedule, even for a nanosecond. She moved to the central console and initiated the series of commands that rerouted Voyager's long-range communications to the necessary coordinates to interface with the array. A moment later, the face of Lieutenant Reginald Barclay, framed by the Pathfinder lab, appeared on the large astrometrics viewscreen.

"Seven, it's nice to see you," he began, nervously.

"Lieutenant," she greeted him with some confusion. "Today's scheduled communication is between Crewman Harran and his family. Why have you interrupted the schedule?"

"S-sorry, S-seven," he stuttered. "I have an urgent message from Starfleet."

He was abruptly shoved out the way, and a face resembling Harry Kim's filled the screen. "Seven, I need your help."

The generally unflappable Seven managed to look surprised. "Ensign Kim?"

"I haven't been an ensign in a long time," he told her. "Seven, I need you to seal the astrometrics lab and cancel everyone's com time. It's an emergency."

"Explain."

"I don't have time to explain. Just do it."

Seven tipped her head very slightly to the side and then called, "Computer, seal doors to the astrometrics lab and erect a level-three forcefield." She tapped her com badge. "Seven of Nine to Crewman Harran."

"Go ahead," came the gruff reply.

"I regret to inform you that your use of the transgalatic communications link has been preempted by a priority message from Starfleet Command. Your time will be rescheduled. I will contact you with an update. Seven of Nine out."

Harry had to admire her efficiency as she turned back to the viewscreen with a look on her face that said, "Satisfied?"

"Thank you, Seven." He held up the transmitter. "Now I need you to tell me how to work this."

"It is a Borg temporal transmitter. How did you acquire it?"

"I stole it from Starfleet Command."

Seven tried processing this information but came up short. "May I ask what you are doing in the Alpha Quadrant?"

"I come from sixteen years in the future," Harry explained. "I was on a routine mission, and I must have flown through a temporal rift without realizing it. I'm just trying to get back to my time."

Having lived through more than enough temporal displacements, thanks to Captain Braxton in the future, Seven simply nodded. "How do you anticipate using the temporal transmitter?"

"My shuttle has been outfitted with a transwarp coil," Harry explained. "You taught me a long time ago that Borg cubes need to reinforce their hulls with chroniton fields to maintain temporal stability while in transwarp. Is it possible to do the opposite – to intentionally let my shuttle go into temporal flux and use the transmitter to set the space-time coordinates for the future?"

Seven was silent for a moment. She had seen Ensign Kim that morning at breakfast in the mess hall. He had teased her about an upcoming recital, asking if she would sing for the crew. Experience told her, however, not to dismiss the fact that there was more than one Ensign Kim in the galaxy. The man on the screen looked and sounded like him, yet he was clearly much older and knew far more about Borg technology. She didn't doubt that there had been some kind of temporal rift that caused his appearance in her time.

However, their communication with Earth had already resulted in one nearly fatal deception. She knew that better than anyone – the Barclay hologram had abducted her, after all. She couldn't let her collective face another deception, especially not one that involved the use of dangerous Borg technology.

"You want me to prove somehow that I'm Harry Kim, don't you? You're worried this is going to turn out like Reg's hologram?" the man on screen asked. His lips pursed in the hint of a smile. "Let's see…What is the stardate?"

"54643," Barclay helpfully volunteered from beside him.

Harry tried as best as he could to remember what he had been doing on that stardate more than a decade before. "Working," he said suddenly. "You were recently the efficiency monitor at a power facility on a planet called Quarra."

"That information would have been accessible through Captain Janeway's logs."

"How would I have access to the captain's logs, Seven?" he asked with frustration. "Come on, this com link is only stable for eleven minutes!" He thought again. "B'Elanna is pregnant, and we just helped a group of Klingons resettle on a new world. The doctor told you he loved you –" He stopped.

Seven attempted to recover from her surprise.

"Sorry," he said, realizing his mistake, "that hasn't happened yet."

"Harry, the Temporal Prime Directive," Barclay cautioned nervously.

"Look, Seven, I don't know how I can prove to you that what I'm saying really happened. Suffice it to say, I don't belong on Earth right now. I'm there on Voyager, with you – well, the younger me is, anyway. I have a wife I love, and I want to get back to her. What kind of temporal disturbance will the existence of two Harry Kims in this timeline cause?"

Seven nodded, knowing he would indeed cause a severe temporal disturbance if not returned as soon as possible.

"How do I set this for the future, Seven?" he demanded.

"You will first need to reinforce the structural integrity of your shuttle's hull," she began.

* * *

**Starfleet Headquarters, Shuttle Pad**

The fact that he was about to break a dozen rules, risking a court-martial if not a complete loss of rank – or worse, imprisonment – was not beyond Harry Kim's line of thought. What he knew, though, was that he had to focus on the mission ahead, for the good of his own life and for the greater good of the timeline. Losing a rank he didn't even yet have or being imprisoned while another version of him was still living in the Delta Quadrant was not an option; the mission had to succeed, for reasons too numerous to count.

Sneaking onto the shuttle pad was easy enough. He and Barclay didn't raise any suspicions as they filed past other uniformed officers, one or two of whom even greeted them politely.

Harry led Barclay to the shuttle in which he'd arrived from the future. It was a different design than all the others on the pad, but none of the officers on duty seemed to be paying it any notice. Its transwarp signature should have set off the Mars Defense Perimeter long before Harry was over the skies of San Francisco. For all they knew, he was the Borg coming to assimilate the planet, yet somehow he'd managed to land with their permission.

"I've never seen a shuttle like this," Barclay commented.

"And you won't for another fifteen years," Harry replied. He scanned the pad again. "Why isn't anyone trying to stop us?"

"I don't know, but let's not question it," Barclay advised. "As soon as you take off, there will be at least two patrollers tailing you." He looked at the other shuttles parked neatly on the pad. "I'll cover you from behind."

"What about Seven? If something goes wrong, and she remembers talking to me…"

"You don't have to worry about her," Reg assured him. "She said this isn't the first time she's been involved in a temporal…snafu without reporting it to Captain Janeway." He caught the look of concern in Harry's eyes. "Oh, don't worry about me, either. If I've learned anything over the past year, it's that sometimes it's better to keep my mouth shut."

Harry nodded and opened the hatch to his shuttle. "Reg, I can't thank you enough for what you've done."

Barclay tossed his hands up modestly. "Well, for a friend…"

"I won't forget how much you helped me."

"You probably won't remember this happening either, but you're welcome anyway."

Harry climbed into the shuttle and slid into pilot's seat. He initiated the prelaunch sequence, ignoring the hails of the ground controllers, and deftly took the shuttle into Earth's atmosphere.

As Barclay predicted, his unwillingness to respond to hails sent him two patrollers following him. They were Starfleet through and through, and this was Earth, so Harry knew they wouldn't open fire unless absolutely necessary. Fortunately, once they were out of Earth's atmosphere, Barclay, in the shuttle he had stolen, pulled up right behind the patrollers and fired preemptively.

With the patrollers' weapons and propulsions knocked offline, Harry went into transwarp, heading for the outer reaches of the system, his transwarp signature undetectable at that distance to any orbital monitors in 2377. His lateral sensors indicated that Barclay had reentered the atmosphere. There would no doubt be trouble for him on the surface, but hopefully Harry would have the timeline straightened out before it became a real problem.

_This is too easy._

Once Harry arrived at the edge of the system, he prepared for one of two scenarios.

Scenario A was that whatever had brought him to 2377 was still there, and he'd fly through it and wind up back in 2393. He began meticulously sweeping the area around the shuttle with his sensors, looking for even minute traces of tachyons or the slightest fluctuations in subspace. Nothing. There was no indication of any temporal anomaly, let alone any residual sign one had ever been there.

_So how the hell did I end up sixteen years in the past in the first place?_

Pushing the thought aside, Harry concentrated on the task at hand. Without any discernible phenomena to return to him to the right time, he was going to have to use Seven's plan for creating his own.

_Okay, now for the hard part. Scenario B._

When Harry took Starfleet History at the Academy, he was surrounded by friends who thought of the early days of the Federation with nothing but stars in their eyes. To them Zefram Cochrane wasn't a drunkard; he was the uber-hero of space travel. James T. Kirk wasn't a reckless nepotist; he embodied the spirit of the pioneer, making his own rules as he went, but always for the greater good. Even as a cadet, Harry had thought that those who regarded the past with such blind nostalgia were foolish. A successful explorer, he thought, didn't need a laundry list of near-death experiences and court-martials to prove his salt. Anyone could break rules; it took real leadership to adhere to them.

Now Harry found it more than ironic that he himself was breaking rules, disobeying orders, and about to operate a dangerous piece of alien technology that he had stolen.

He had to remind himself that he was not doing it for his own glory, but to rectify a situation that could easily become very detrimental to the whole Federation, if not all of existence.

He sneered at his own thought. _You really think you're that important? Come home a few years early from the Delta Quadrant, and what? Suddenly the Federation will cease to exist?_

Still, the policies on temporal mechanics were quite clear.

He also wanted to get back to the life he knew. The life with a woman who loved him and had chosen him – not the young woman with whom he'd awakened that morning. She was Libby, but she wasn't _his_ Libby. Marriage with his Libby may have been far from perfect, but they'd weathered nearly everything imaginable together, and that meant a lot more to him that simply finding a happy life in the Alpha Quadrant a few months early.

It briefly occurred to him that he had once received a message from himself in the future in order to save Voyager from a fatal quantum slipstream flight. He wondered how many times he would do this – worry about the past and work so hard to protect it, at all costs.

_It's not the past I'm saving,_ he reminded himself. _It's my present._

He hadn't had time to think about as he'd raced to flee the planet, but now that he had a moment, his mind strayed to Seven of Nine. His friend. She'd been dead for years, and he sometimes forgot about her. But he had seen her, just as she would always be in his mind, in a maroon biosuit, blonde hair neatly tucked up, head to the side, monotone voice explaining Borg technology to a shipmate. Harry smiled slightly, remembering just how much he had grown to care about her over the years. He wished he'd said something more to her before signing off at Pathfinder.

A warning beep on the console in front of him shook his head out of the fog. He looked down and realized his long-range sensors were picking up an Excelsior-class in the vicinity. _Better focus, Harry._ He activated the temporal transmitter, set the space-time coordinates, and engaged his transwarp engine. He watched with disbelief as the readings on the console in front of him began to fluctuate.


	10. Chapter 10

"_You said this would be canon-consistent," the reader protests._

"_It is," Kezhke insists._

"_Then how can Harry have a kid Miral Paris's age in Part One? That's not canon! And why doesn't he have any kids in Part Two?"_

"_Be patient," Kezhke requests. "Your questions will be answered in chapter 10."_

_When we last ended, Harry had mysteriously wound up sixteen years in the past and had used stolen Borg technology in an attempt to return to the right year…_

* * *

**Chapter 10: Earth, San Francisco**

"What are you doing here?" Libby asked, wide-eyed. Harry Kim regarded her with circumspection, trying to look for the wrinkles and gray hair he'd missed the last time she'd asked him that – anything to give away her age. "Honey, what is that face for? I asked what you're doing home so early. I thought you wouldn't be back until tomorrow."

Harry's eyes narrowed. It all sounded right so far, but then again, he'd been too easily fooled last time. "Libby, can you tell me the year?"

"The year?"

"The year."

"The Earth year is 2393." She put a hand to his forehead. "Are you feeling okay?"

He nodded, suddenly completely relieved that his experiment with a Borg temporal transmitter had managed to land him back in the right time. _Thank you, Seven. Thank you, Reg._ He threw his arms around Libby, and they stumbled together backwards into the apartment. His mouth quickly found hers.

"If this is what letting you go on a mission does," she said happily, "I'll say yes every time."

Harry didn't answer but kept kissing her with a fever. He tried to lift her up, wanting her to wrap her legs around him.

Libby resisted, though. "Honey, Andrew has some friends over."

"What?" he murmured through their kisses.

Libby lovingly caressed his face as she pulled her mouth from his. Her eyes were smiling. "I'm happy to see you, too, but Andrew has friends over."

"Who's Andrew?" Harry asked as he followed her into the living room.

Several teenage boys were sitting on the sofa.

Harry, who had decided he was prepared for all things and that nothing could shock him anymore, felt his heart stop.

One of the young men looked up at him. "Hi, Dad."

* * *

**Oakland Shipyards, Tertiary Shuttle Hangar, 2393**

Accessing the Starfleet database was the first thought that crossed his mind as he shut himself in the bedroom. It was to his great relief that his service record was the same one he remembered living. He next looked up a few friends, hoping that their lives had also not changed, and when he realized that Tom Paris was still in San Francisco – as he had been for the past three years – it was all Harry could do to flee from his home with minimal explanation to his wife…or son.

"This is a surprise," Tom said as Harry charged across the shuttle hangar toward him. "You never visit me at work."

"I need you to tell me something. No, I need to tell you something."

"Okay…."

Harry's jaw clenched slightly. "It's a violation of the Temporal Prime Directive."

Tom whistled. "Boy, I don't know, Har. I've had some nasty run-ins with temporal mechanics." He saw the severity of Harry's expression. "Hey, I was kidding. What's going on?"

"Let's go somewhere private," Harry said, climbing inside one of the training shuttles.

Tom shrugged mentally and followed. Once they were seated in the cockpit, he asked again, "Harry, what's going on? You look like you've just seen a Borg cube."

"A Borg cube? Ha! They don't scare me nearly as much as this does." Harry took a deep breath. "Tom, do Libby and I have any children?"

"Yeah," Tom said easily, "Andrew."

"Andrew," Harry repeated, tasting the word as it rolled around his mouth. It wasn't altogether unpleasant, just a flavor he'd never tried before. It would take his palate a minute to adjust. "And how old is Andrew?"

"The same age as Miral. Sixteen."

Harry shook his head slowly, and his hands clenched into fists on his thighs. "No, no, that's impossible. You and B'Elanna got married on Voyager, and Miral was born on Voyager. Libby and I didn't get married until three years later, remember? You came to the wedding. L'Naan was born the next day."

"That's right," Tom agreed readily. His blue eyes turned to Harry, wondering him what the problem was.

Harry nearly flew out of the chair. "So how do I have a child old enough to have been born the same time as Miral?"

"Oh, I don't know," Tom said simply. "You do." It all made sense to him, but he could see that Harry was ruffled. "What's the violation of the Temporal Prime Directive that you can't tell me about but want to?"

"Did I go on a shuttle trip to Pluto yesterday?"

"I have no idea. We can ask Libby. Do you want me to call her?"

"Forget it, I did. I went to repair a communications array, and I encountered a temporal rift, which I didn't know about, and then I flew home. I walked into my house and saw Libby, and then realized it was 2377."

"What?" Now he had Tom's attention.

"So I stole a Borg temporal transmitter from Starfleet Command and used it to return to this time. I got home a little while ago, and I was in the right time. Everything seems to have returned to normal – except now I have a son that I didn't have when I left yesterday." He looked at Tom with a manic intensity in his eyes. "So I need you to tell me how it is that I remember everything about the last sixteen years – and that doesn't include anybody called Andrew."

Tom shrugged. "I don't know what to tell you. You have a son. You always have."

"You don't remember how Libby and I tried to have children for years and couldn't? How we almost got a divorce after she had a miscarriage?"

"No. Maybe there's been some kind of residual temporal displacement," Tom suggested carefully. He reached for a nearby tricorder. "I'm not reading any tachyons or chronitons." He closed the tricorder. "Maybe you hit your head or something? Maybe you need medical treatment?"

Harry rose and began backing out of the shuttle. "No, no, I don't need treatment," he said as he walked toward the open hatch. One of his hands was outstretched toward Tom, as if to keep him a safe distance away. "And I don't need you to tell anyone about this."

Tom was concerned, but shrugged his compliance. "Whatever you say."

* * *

**Residence of John and Mary Kim**

Harry knew he hadn't hit his head and, since he hadn't found any temporal anomalies before activating the Borg transmitter, he doubted he'd encountered displacement. The thought that he had accidentally crossed into a different quantum reality didn't escape him – but if that had been a possibility, he would have expected Seven of Nine to have warned him about it.

If Tom and Libby couldn't give him the answers he wanted, then there was only one place he thought he could turn: his parents. It was his relief to find they still lived in the same house, and the same code still granted him access.

"Mom!" he called as he hurried from one room to another. "Dad! Mom!"

Mary Kim emerged from around a corner and smiled sweetly at her beloved only son. "Harry, what are you doing here?"

"Hi, Mom," he said a little more calmly. He bent down to kiss her cheek.

"Shouldn't you be at work? Is everything all right?"

Harry looked closely at his mother. She was petite and old and gave the impression of being weak, but he knew she was quite formidable in reality. But her smiling eyes were too much for him. He couldn't bring himself to tell her what had happened, to confuse her or, worse, to make her worry about him.

"Everything's fine, Mom," he assured her, taking her hands into his own. "How about a cup of tea?"

His mother nodded and led him toward the kitchen. As she prepared two cups of tea using the antique china set that had been in her family for a century, she commented, "You really shouldn't come running in, screaming like that. For a moment I almost thought something was wrong with Libby or Andrew."

"Andrew?" Harry echoed carefully. That strange name again. He hoped not to draw attention to it, waiting to see what information she would volunteer.

"Libby said he doesn't want any family members at his birthday party," she said, passing a teacup to him. "Your father and I understand, of course, but we'd like to take him out to dinner the day before so we can celebrate with him."

Harry sipped the tea slowly, eyeing his mother over the rim of the cup.

"Of course, Lucille probably wants to do the same," she continued. "So we'll probably end up eating all together, and I'll never get in a word to my own grandson. The way that woman goes on and on – you'd think she never has any friends around to talk to."

"Lucille," Harry repeated. "Libby's mom." _But she's really sick. She can't go out to dinner._

"Of course," her mother insisted. "Who else?" She set her teacup down with a clang. "Are you feeling all right? You don't look very well."

"I haven't eaten in a day," Harry confessed, and it was the truth. He was starving, but he somehow doubted that was why he looked pale at the moment. It was too unnerving, hearing her talk about a family life he'd clearly never experienced. He set his teacup down, too. "I'm sorry, Mom, but I have to go." He quickly kissed her cheek and fled.

* * *

**Kim Family Residence**

When Harry arrived back home, Andrew's friends had gone. It was now just Andrew and Libby, playing a game of derada together at the kitchen table. They looked comfortable, almost as if they'd been doing it for years.

_Impossible. That kid didn't exist until three hours ago._

"Hey, Dad, want to join us?" Andrew asked as he walked in. "I need a _real_ opponent."

"Very funny, Drew," Libby said with slight scolding in her voice. "You know I'm letting you win." There was a light in her eyes that Harry couldn't remember seeing for a long time.

"Right, Mom. If you say so." Andrew turned to Harry with a smile, and their eyes met.

_Eyes like mine. Face like mine. Skin like mine._

Suddenly a wave of memories and experiences crashed over Harry. Changing diapers, helping with math homework and science fair projects, first steps, vacations with Miral and L'Naan Paris and Jeremy and Tony Powell. Andrew, Tony, and Miral teasing the younger siblings. The boys trying desperately to keep away from the girls. A game of Capture the Flag on Tau Ceti III many years ago, Kims versus Parises. The Parises had won. Tom said it was because of their warrior blood. Harry said it was because he and Andrew had been outnumbered.

Harry walked over to the desk and found the silver frame sitting beside the computer. He hastily picked it up and turned it toward himself, holding his breath. The picture of Libby graduating was gone. In its place was a picture of the Capture the Flag game, of Miral and L'Naan rolling in the field with laughter. But to L'Naan's left was a third form, and Harry knew intuitively that it was Andrew. That Andrew had always been there.

He set the picture frame down and joined Andrew and Libby at the table. "You know, Libs," he said, "the reason he always beats you is because you always use the same three maneuvers." She handed him her game pieces. "All right, Drew, get ready to lose. You've never once beaten me, and I'm not about to let you start today."


	11. Chapter 11

_In the last few chapters, Harry Kim accidentally journeyed from 2393 to 2377, stole Borg technology to return himself to the right year, and came home to find a son he'd never seen before – that everyone else seemed to remember. After a few minutes of looking at Andrew, it washed over him that he'd always had a son…_

* * *

**Chapter 11: Earth, San Francisco, Torres-Paris Family Residence, 2390**

"Seriously? Come on!" Miral Paris scowled at her parents.

They were sitting on the couch, arms around each other, kissing lightly and murmuring to each other. B'Elanna and L'Naan had just returned from B'Elanna's first diplomatic mission to Qo'noS, and Tom wanted to show his wife how much he'd missed her.

Miral marched down the hall and burst into L'Naan's room.

"Hey! Ever hear of knocking?"

"Did you see them?" Miral demanded of her little sister.

"Who?"

"Mom and Dad?"

"I think they're in the living room."

Miral led her sister down the hall by the hand and pointed to their parents on the sofa.

"So what?" L'Naan asked.

Miral rolled her eyes. "Don't you think that's disgusting?" she said loud enough for her parents to hear. "In the middle of the living room?"

"I think it's kind of cute. They really like each other."

"Hello!" Miral yelled impatiently at her parents. "We are home!"

Tom looked over B'Elanna's shoulder. "Do you need something?" he asked, innocently batting his eyelashes at her.

"Can't you do that somewhere else?"

"We could," Tom said slowly, "but it wouldn't be as much fun." He looked at B'Elanna, and they snickered.

This only further enraged Miral. "I'd like to know if Harry and Libby make out in front of Andrew!" she called over her shoulder as she tromped toward the front door.

"So would I!" Tom called back. "Let me know what you find out."

* * *

**Kim Family Residence**

Miral rapped on the front door impatiently, continuously, until Libby Kim finally opened it. "Miral?" she asked with surprise. "What are you doing here, sweetheart? Your mother called me to say you'd left home without telling them where you were going. She thought you were heading this way."

Miral pushed past her into the living room. "Is Andrew home? I need to talk to him."

Libby closed the front door. "Yes, he's home," she said slowly, "but first tell me why you're so upset."

Miral put her hands on her hips with a sigh. "Libby, it's a teenage thing. You wouldn't understand."

Libby stared at the headstrong girl for a moment, biting her lip. She resisted the urge to smile, opting instead to kiss Miral on the forehead. "He's in his room."

"Thank you," Miral called as she headed toward Andrew's room.

His door was open, so Miral entered without knocking. She plopped down on his mattress with an exaggerated groan and relayed the afternoon's events to her friend.

"What's the big deal?" Andrew wondered. "I mean, it's not like you saw them having sex."

Miral snorted. "I can hear them often enough."

"How often?" he asked with some curiosity. Miral glared at him, signaling that she wouldn't dignify his question with an answer.

"You have normal parents," she told him. "You have no idea what it's like to live with Tom and B'Elanna."

"Okay, then," Andrew said patiently, taking a seat on the bed next to her, "tell me what it's like living with Tom and B'Elanna."

"They're just so – so – hot-blooded. All the time."

"What is your problem?" he demanded. "Why does this bother you so much?"

Miral looked away from him. "I don't know," she mumbled. "It just does."

"You're being ridiculous. And selfish."

"Selfish? How can you say that I'm the one who's being selfish?"

"You're always angry that your parents don't act the way you want them to. Remember when your mom became the liaison to the Klingon Empire, and you were mad because you wanted her to stay in Starfleet?"

"Oh yeah," Miral remembered. "That was stupid of me. I like living on Earth better than on the Enterprise."

"And remember when your dad installed the holosuite in your house? You were mad for a week because you thought it was childish."

"Well, come on, Andrew," she argued. "How many people have a holosuite in their own house?"

"Not many," he agreed, "but your dad likes writing holoprograms. So what? I'm sure he doesn't like a lot of things you do."

"Like what?" she demanded.

"Like how you always tell him you don't want flying lessons. How you'd rather study fashion instead."

Miral twirled a strand of hair in her fingers while she contemplated. "I still don't see how it's okay for them to act like sex-crazed teenagers. They're not young, Andrew. They're really old."

"What makes you think they're acting like sex-crazed teenagers?" he challenged. "Is that how you act?" She didn't answer. A thought suddenly occurred to him. "Are you sex-crazed?"

"I don't know," she said quickly, looking down and blushing. "Are you?"

Although he'd started the conversation, Andrew began to blush as well. "Um…."

"Have you ever…?" she asked softly, suddenly finding the courage to look him directly in the eyes.

He held her gaze while he shook his head. "No. Have you?"

Miral shook her head. "Do you think about it?"

"Yeah. All the time," he admitted in a quiet voice. "You?"

"Yeah." She paused. "But I think it has to be someone special, you know?"

"Yeah." Andrew tossed his shoulders, as if shaking off the discussion. "Maybe that's how your parents feel – like they're each other's someone special."

"Andrew," Miral admonished, "don't be disgusting."

* * *

**Torres-Paris Family Residence**

A knock on their door stopped Tom and B'Elanna mid-conversation as they prepared for bed. Miral poked her head in and asked for permission to enter. B'Elanna nodded, if a little stiffly, and Tom sat back and watched, wondering how they would perform this particular dance of pride together.

It was Miral who took the lead. "I just want to apologize for earlier," she said in an achingly soft voice as she perched on the corner of their bed. Unlike B'Elanna, Tom melted instantly at that voice. Miral fidgeted with the seam of their blanket, and it reminded Tom of B'Elanna's own tendency to express anxiety through her fingers. "I guess I was being a little childish."

Tom watched B'Elanna's expression shift from surprise to satisfaction to maternal concern. "Okay," she said slowly.

"It's none of my business how you express your feelings for each other," Miral continued. Tom wondered how long B'Elanna would let the tortured apology drag out. "Um, I guess it's just a little weird when none of my friends' parents act like that."

B'Elanna looked to Tom for support, but he just cocked his head to the side with a slight raise of the eyebrow as if to say, "Well, she's making an effort."

"Okay," his wife said again. "You know, I never really saw my parents showing much affection for each other, so I guess I can imagine how strange it would be. I'm sorry if we make you feel uncomfortable."

Tom thought it was perhaps time to cut in. He climbed swiftly across the bed to Miral, put an arm around her shoulder, and planted a big, sloppy kiss on her cheek. "It's because we love each other so much," he declared as he tackled her to the bed and tickled her between the ribs. "And we love you, too."

Miral shrieked as he tickled her. "Da-ad! I'm too old!" She shrieked again, unable to escape him. "Mom, help!"

B'Elanna hurled a pillow at him, but Tom used it to squarely hit her on the head. She fended him off with her arms until she was able to wrestle it from his grasp. "Hold him down!" she ordered Miral.

Miral pushed her father down and reached for another pillow. She and B'Elanna bashed Tom repeatedly while he laughed uncontrollably, unable to stop them.

"What in the name of Kahless!"

The three stopped simultaneously and looked toward the door, where L'Naan was standing in her pajamas with her hands on her hips.

"Some of us are trying to sleep," she informed them testily. "Hey!" Her tirade was interrupted as her father hit her directly in the face with a flying pillow. L'Naan picked it up and leapt onto the bed. A major battle ensued.

About ten minutes later, in the middle of a silent truce, B'Elanna dared to ask, "Miral, what caused the change of heart?"

"Oh," she said absently, "Andrew."

"Oh, Andrew," Tom mimicked in falsetto. He dodged another sailing pillow.

Before the pillow fight could resume at full strength, B'Elanna moved to the open bedroom door, encouraging Miral and L'Naan to leave. They obediently filed out, each pausing in turn to kiss her on the cheek. Then she closed the door behind them and climbed back into bed with Tom. "What are you smiling at?"

Tom was casually lying on his side, his legs crossed, his head propped up on an elbow. He looked at her, eyes wide but still smiling. She regarded him curiously as she climbed under the covers.

"Tom, what?"

"I love my three girls," he said happily.

B'Elanna resisted the urge to hit him one last time with her pillow.

* * *

"Tell us a story, Mom," L'Naan demanded, stretching her feet out under the dinner table. "Tell us about when we were little."

B'Elanna thought for a moment. "Well, there was the time you and Miral and a few other children on the Enterprise decided to escape from school and hide in the Jeffries tubes."

"I remember that!" Miral declared excitedly.

"How long were we hidden?" L'Naan asked.

"Oh, about five minutes," B'Elanna told her. "Little kids forget about things like internal sensors."

L'Naan looked disappointed.

"Come on, Mom," Miral urged. "Tell us a good one."

"Yeah," L'Naan added, "Tell me about…me being born."

Miral rolled her eyes. "Who wants to hear about that?"

L'Naan was unruffled by her sister's judgment. "Well, everyone knows about your birth. It's a Delta Quadrant legend. But that doesn't mean it's more important than mine."

_  
**Starbase 174, Private Quarters of Torres-Paris Family, 2380**_

"_Tell me about your day."_

_B'Elanna pulled off her boots and swung her feet up on the sofa. "You know I can't."_

"_Oh, come on," Tom said, taking her feet into his lap and rubbing them. He watched her eyes close in contentment. "What about spousal privilege?"_

"_No way," B'Elanna said. "Anything you find out about the new design will affect your flight simulations."_

"_This has nothing to do with my duties. I just care about my wife and want to hear about her day."_

_B'Elanna snorted. "Oh, yeah, right." She relaxed against the sofa. "That feels nice."_

"_Good," Tom said, still massaging. "Now, just so I can prepare Starfleet's pilots best, should we anticipate additional attitude stability at impulse?"_

"_Tom," she warned, eyes flying open. She sat up suddenly. "Where's our daughter?"_

"_On the holodeck with Gefen. Martis said she'd bring her back after dinner."_

"_Dinner. I'm starving," she realized. She lifted her feet from Tom's lap and rose. "What should we eat?"_

"_I'm not hungry, but I'll sit with you."_

_B'Elanna turned to the replicator. "One small garden salad." The specified dish materialized, and she brought it to the table. Before she could even take her fork to the first bite, Tom stole a small tomato and plopped it into his mouth. "I thought you weren't hungry."_

"_I'm not," he said, pilfering a cucumber slice._

"_Tom, I can replicate more food."_

"_No, no, it's fine," he said, swiping one last tomato and then raising his hands in surrender. "Want to hear about my day?"_

"_Sure. Anything heroic happen today?"_

"_Well, actually," he began, settling back in his chair with his hands behind his head, "we were pushing the new propulsion system through the simulations of spatial anomalies, and we hit a glitch when we –"_

"_Forget it," she interrupted. "You want to know what we're planning for maneuverability controls at sublight speeds, and I can't tell you."_

_Tom sighed. "It would be a lot easier to do my job if I know what you were planning."_

"_It'd be a lot easier to live with you, too," she pointed out, "but that doesn't change my orders."_

"_What could you possibly be working on that is such a secret? Quantum slipstream, transwarp, cloaking technology, neural interfacing – it's all been common knowledge for years."_

_B'Elanna continued eating, saying nothing. _

"_Come on, B'Elanna. What's the fun of working together if we can't talk about our work?"_

"_I'm sorry to disappoint you, Lieutenant. You know, we have worked together for years, and you've never complained before about it not being any fun."_

"_Because when we were on Voyager, we were a team."_

_B'Elanna put her fork down forcefully. "Tom, enough. Orders are orders. It's just for this one ship design."_

"_Okay, okay."_

"_Let's talk about something else. Chakotay said he'd watch Miral on Friday night if we wanted a night to ourselves."_

"_How about a moonlight picnic on Samoa?"_

"_I don't know," she teased. "Anything to do there?"_

"_Funny."_

"_As I recall," she continued, "you prefer __active__ holoprograms."_

_Tom grinned. "It'll be plenty __active__, believe me." To his delight, B'Elanna smiled back. But he knew what she was referring to – that stupid period in their dating history when he only wanted to go skiing and rock climbing while she wanted to lie half-naked on beaches together. Why he ever thought he should win that fight was beyond him. Things had become a lot more fun when he started letting B'Elanna pick the programs. "I don't know what I was ever thinking."_

_B'Elanna resumed eating. "Neither did I, but you came around."_

"_I was an idiot. Making you go skiing, when you don't like the cold, when I could have been looking at you in your swimwear. I'm lucky you stayed with me."_

"_Yes, you are." She speared a piece of cucumber and held her fork out for him. He leaned forward to eat it. "It's protomatter."_

"_Excuse me?"_

"_Protomatter micro-chain reactions. The new propulsion design."_

_Tom raised his eyebrows. "That sounds –"_

"_Very dangerous, very unstable, but –"_

"_Very effective," he finished._

"_If we get it right," B'Elanna said with a tip of her head. "Apparently, the Cardassians are experimenting with the same technology, and Starfleet doesn't want to end up racing them to get the design into service. That's why it's been classified."_

_Tom's forehead wrinkled as he asked, "Why are you telling me this? Aren't orders orders?"_

_B'Elanna shrugged. "Spousal privilege. Now, about Friday…"_

"Mom," Miral interrupted impatiently, "what does this have to do with anything?"

L'Naan, however, had other concerns. "Protomatter micro-chain reactions? That was your big secret? That technology never even made it out of research stages. The testing phases always ended up causing –"

"I'm aware," B'Elanna reminded her gently. "I was on the design team, remember? Keep listening."

_  
One and a half year old Miral Paris ran as best as she could up and down the beach. B'Elanna watched, amused, as she leaned back on her hands in the sand. Tom passed her a tropical drink with a slice of pineapple on the rim, which she accepted and sipped. Then, finally, she said, "You know, running after Miral wasn't exactly what I had in mind when I said an active program. I thought Chakotay was baby-sitting."_

_Tom smirked, sipping his own drink. "I know, but it's kind of nice, isn't it?"_

"_Chasing the kid over sex on the beach?"_

"_Come on, B'Elanna. This is the life. I have a gorgeous daughter, and I get to work with my even more beautiful wife – when she's not being secretive." Tom squinted as he turned to look at her, as the sun was behind her shoulder. He caught her staring out at the crashing waves, unaware and unguarded. He loved how she looked when she felt completely at ease, but it was rare to catch her like that. In his line of vision, he also saw Miral venturing too close to the water, and though it was a holographic ocean, his parental instincts propelled him to his feet before he could think about it. He caught Miral when she was ankle-deep in the water, and he lifted her to his hip as he waded deeper into the crashing waves._

_B'Elanna's tranquil face morphed into a smile of delight as she watched them. Tom and Miral splashed, laughing, for a few minutes before they came wading out. Miral landed with a wet plop in B'Elanna's lap, and Tom threw himself_ _down on the sand next to her. He shook out his wet hair, flicking salty water onto B'Elanna's cheek. She wiped it away without complaint and put her arms around Miral._

"_I think it's time," she said seriously, looking out at the waves again._

_Tom lay on his side, squinting at her again. "Time for what?"_

"_Time to talk about having another."_

_That made Tom sit up. His large palm caressed the back of Miral's head. "Do you think we're ready?"_

_B'Elanna nodded. "Ready to start trying, yes." She angled her neck to look down at Miral. "Another daughter like you."_

"_Or a son."_

"_You'd probably like to have a son, huh?"_

_Tom's smile was as earnest as could be as he said, "Nah, I hope it's another girl."_

"I was conceived on the holodeck?" L'Naan asked in disbelief. "In front of Miral?"

"No, you tribble," Miral snapped at her. "She just said I was one and a half. I'm three years older than you. Do the math."

"Do not call your sister a tribble," B'Elanna scolded. Then to L'Naan she said, "You were conceived a year later, but that was the day we decided we were ready for you."

"So where was I actually conceived?"

"Ew, I do not want to know," Miral interrupted.

"And I am not going to tell you." B'Elanna patted L'Naan's knee, vaguely aware that it was a gesture she'd picked up from Tom. "All you need to know is that we wanted you very much."

"And probably worked very hard to get her," Miral added sarcastically.

B'Elanna glared at her. "I thought you were done addressing my sex life. Stop thinking about it," she said forcefully.

"Hard to stop thinking about it when it wakes me up at two in the morning." Miral quickly escaped to her bedroom before her mother could reprimand her further for her impertinence.

B'Elanna closed her eyes, but the feeling of a small, warm hand on her own quelled her aggression. She looked at the hand, then at L'Naan, and smiled wryly. "L'Naan, promise me that when you're her age, you won't act like that."

"Mom," she said quietly, in a voice B'Elanna knew immediately meant the child was going to tell her mother a truth she probably wouldn't like, "you woke me up last night, too."

B'Elanna did not favor one daughter over the other, at least not consciously. She recognized, though, that her responses to them were different. If Miral had said it, she would have bristled. But these days they rubbed each other the wrong way no matter what. L'Naan, however, was a different story. A model of good behavior, it was remarkable she had even been spawned from Tom and B'Elanna's genes. And here she was, at the tender age of nine, sitting calmly and patiently through another fight between her sister and mother, offering advice beyond her years in the most polite manner.

"That loud, huh?" B'Elanna was mortified to be having the conversation in the first place.

L'Naan nodded. "You always are, but I think – I think it bothers Miral more now because of Andrew."

"Andrew?" B'Elanna repeated in disbelief. "I don't see the connection."

"Don't tell her I told you, but Andrew kissed Imani, and Miral is really jealous."

Things began to make a little more sense to B'Elanna.

* * *

"Wait, wait, stop," she panted, pushing Tom away. "The girls."

"What?" Tom asked groggily with confusion.

"The girls. They told me they can hear us."

Tom considered this for a moment. "So, what are we supposed to do, B'Elanna? Stop having sex?" One look at her face, and he saw how serious she was. He lay back on his pillow. "You're really upset by this?"

"It's Miral," she said, staring up at the ceiling. "Lately she knows how to push all my buttons."

"Do you want me to have a talk with her?"

"No, L'Naan thinks she's just upset because Andrew is interested in some other girl."

"Really? Andrew's interested in girls?" Tom sounded proud.

"Not _girls_," she corrected. "_A_ girl. And one who is not your daughter."

"So Miral likes him?"

"I don't know about that, but according to L'Naan, she is certainly jealous that someone else has captured his attention."

"And that's why she's lashing out at you for capturing my attention?"

B'Elanna frowned slightly. "Well, when you put it that way…"

Before she could finish her thought, however, Tom rolled on top of her. She opened her mouth to protest, but he just touched his fingers to her lips and said with a devilish smile, "Let's see how quiet we can be."

* * *

**Western Montana**

L'Naan was definitely right about the tension between Andrew and Miral. Usually on their camping trips, they did everything possible to get away from her, but this time she found herself seated between them at the campfire as they roasted marshmallows.

B'Elanna and Libby sat on the opposite side of the fire, drinking the last of the coffee they'd made after dinner. Their children's seating arrangement hadn't gone unnoticed, but it would have to wait until the three had gone off to bed to be discussed.

Harry made what seemed like a flimsy excuse to everyone – that he wanted to show Tom a book he was reading – and the two escaped to Tom and B'Elanna's tent.

As she watched them go, B'Elanna rolled her eyes. "They're worse than children. Why don't they just admit they need time alone together?"

Libby nodded in agreement with a smile on her face. "Something about Tom always turns Harry into a little boy." She took a sip of coffee. "They're cute together, though."

Inside the tent Tom and Harry sat down on top of the sleeping bags.

"What's on your mind, Har?" Tom asked knowingly. "You're the worst liar I've ever met. I know there's a reason you wanted to talk."

Harry shook his head as he wrapped his arms around his knees. "I just wanted to get away from everyone for a little bit. I haven't really talked to you in a few months."

"How are things?"

"I know it sounds trite," Harry said with a smile, "but really, really perfect. Libby and I are happy, and Andrew's doing well in school. Work is great. Libby's work is great. Her mom's in good health." He shook his head. "Sometimes I feel too lucky."

"You deserve it," Tom said sincerely. "I'm happy for you."

"What about you?" Harry wondered.

Tom's smiled shifted slightly. "My warriors are locking _bat'leths_ a bit more than usual these days."

"Miral and B'Elanna?"

"How did you ever guess?" Tom asked sarcastically.

"Well, it could be that they've barely said two words to each other since we got here," Harry revealed. "Or it could be that I overheard Andrew talking to her the other day. Or it could be that I know Andrew kissed Imani, and I know Miral's jealous."

"You know way too much about your son's life."

Harry shrugged. "We Kims are a close-knit family."

_So are we Parises, _Tom thought with a little grumpiness. But he knew his friend hadn't meant any harm.

The two men looked up as B'Elanna entered the tent. Realizing she had interrupted something, she stopped unzipping her parka and froze mid-stoop with a knowing, "Oh."

Tom patted the space next to him on the sleeping bag. "Come here," he said. "I was telling Harry about the civil war that's taken over our house."

She decided it was okay to intrude and continued to remove her parka. She tossed it in a corner of the tent. "You mean me and your oldest daughter?"

"Yes," Tom said, patting the seat next to him again.

B'Elanna crawled over to him. She looked at Harry, his face easy and blissful, more so than she'd seen in a long time. He also looked eager, ready to spout words of wisdom in her direction. She supposed he deserved a chance to do so after having played little brother to her and Tom for so many years. "I see," she said slowly. "Did you ask him for advice on how to handle her?"

Harry piped up eagerly. "B'Elanna, I don't mean to pry, but raising a teenager can be difficult. You and Miral are a lot alike, and I'm sure that only leads to more tension between you. Andrew and I are a lot alike, too, but we're both pretty easygoing, I guess, which makes it easier."

"This is supposed to be helping?" she interrupted.

"If you'd be quiet and let me finish." She smiled at him as she held up her hands in surrender. He continued, and B'Elanna was satisfied that he was enjoying his moment in the spotlight. "I find that sometimes as a parent, you have to forget your own feelings. You can't be hurt by things your child does or says. You have to remember that, as far as your teenager is concerned, you aren't really a person. And then it's easier to handle problems."

Fortunately, Harry couldn't see B'Elanna's dubious facial expression as she turned to Tom with a look in her eyes that said, "Are you kidding me?"

**End of Part Two**


End file.
